Noel

Christmas may be the time of year I most enjoy. I say "may be" because I really love every time of year! Summers are right up there at the top of the list, vacations visiting far away family and discovering rich resources all around me, Halloween with a chance to be costumed and silly, Thanksgiving prompts reflection of all I am and have been blessed with, Easter promises newness of life, and tax refund season!
I appreciate the season changes, falls colors, snow layered bare branches of northern winter trees, once barren branches that glow with bright blossoms against a cloudless blue Spring sky. I look forward to all of these treats offered in only a short window of time notched out of each calendar year.
Still, Christmas holds a spot in my heart that almost cannot be rivaled. I love the sights, the sounds, the smells and the feel of Christmas, I love to say Merry Christmas to every one I interact with, it has a nostalgic ring as it leaves my lips falling pleasantly on even my own ears. I love to hear the Salvation Army bells ringing outside the stores and the same old familiar songs of the season piped through the speakers once inside. When the house is filled with sweet smells drifting from the kitchen, and the tree or wreath or garland of fresh cut evergreens compete for my nose's attention, then I know this is Christmas!
There is excitement as plans are made and implemented, names are drawn for gifting, gifts are made and shopped for until the just right one is wrapped up with pretty paper and bow and given it's place of honor under the tree to await it's presentation. There are parties that require party clothes and party foods and gifts of appreciation for the hosts who thought highly enough of each guest to include them on their list. There are beautifully lighted trees and yard ornaments, lamp posts with festive banners stating greetings for a merry happy jolly joyous season, traditional Christmas movies watched over and over every year because it's just not Christmas without them, hot drinks to sip, special concerts dramas and services at all the local churches. There are sparkle dusted greeting cards expressing Christmas sentiment and wishes from family and friends, some of whom we might otherwise not hear from the whole year, yet at Christmas it's good to know we're thought of, and so for the season they are displayed around a door frame or mantel serving as little reminders of how rich life really has been, and continues to be.
I remember. It is a time to recall the people places and events that have over the years been life shaping milestones.
I was fortunate to enjoy both sets of Grandparents throughout my youth and some of my fondest memories revolve around Christmas's shared with them. I remember a silver foil Christmas tree with an electric wheel that shone red, green, yellow and blue light onto shiny glistening branches as it turned underneath. I remember some of the gifts they gave me, white fur mittens, white "go-go" boots, white ice skates that I learned to skate with on the frozen ditch in my own back yard, and hand crocheted sweaters and booties in bright happy colors. We gathered at their homes with aunts uncles and cousins to enjoy each others company, the time made more festive with candy dishes of assorted hard Christmas candies in the shape of striped ribbons and soft centered raspberries, and nuts that had to be cracked open.
I remember waking my parents long before the sun came up unable to sleep with such anxiety for the presents to reveal the secrets they held behind their look at me I'm for you don't touch me until Christmas papers! Dad and Mom would tell us each year not to get out of bed until it was getting light out, but an excited child's mind is easily convinced that the brightness of moonlit snow is indeed the first signs of dawn! Out of exasperation over several consecutive previous early Christmas mornings, my Dad finally resorted one year to set an alarm clock outside our bedrooms with instructions not to wake them until the alarm sounded. Knowing we had to wait to open our presents until then, we fell asleep. There was no need to lie awake waiting and watching for the morning light. The alarm sounded and we ran to wake up Mom and Dad. As they emerged groggily from their room confused and bewildered by the complete darkness still filling the house, Dad checked the alarm to find he had inadvertently set the clock for the early hour he'd hoped to avoid! We had a great laugh and still tell the story with more great laughs, best of all though, us kids got to open our presents! We did go back to bed after those early mornings, but I'm pretty sure there was not much sleeping going on, there were new treasures and goodies to be enjoyed after all!
I remember some of the gifts from my parents, a pump organ one year! New pj's, fuzzy slippers, a jewelry box with a spinning ballerina, Dr. kits, Chatty Kathy, a lavender plaid outfit with lavender stockings and a second outfit in aqua plaid with aqua stockings, a baby buggy, a metal dollhouse that had to be assembled with tabs inserted into slots for it to become 3 dimensional, with furniture, that I still own, and a vanity with a vintage mirror enjoyed by my daughter all these years later. One year my brother gave me a pair of platform tennis shoes that I'd seen and liked while out on a Christmas shopping trip, and another year my great aunt Barbie and uncle Norman gave me a heart shaped turquoise cloisonne necklace.
I don't think the gifters even really considered that their gift may be the ones that I'd remember all my life, and that as I remember the gifts I'd think of the gifter and the time in which it was given, which fills my thoughts with even more memories and that these memories would inevitably be the bigger and better gift.
I've lived a whole other life since then. I've raised my own family as we've witnessed the Christmases come with the hopeful anticipation of excited little ones. I've known the joy of seeing their sweet faces light up with the thrill of the gift. And just as they have come they have gone, marking poignantly the all too fast passing of time. My parents babies babies are having babies!
I know what I have, I know what a gift I've been given to have a life filled with loving family and friends. It is a life not without difficulties, but it is a life with a support group to get on the other side when the difficulties strike. It is a life woven with strong cords of hope, help, forgiveness, encouragement, joy, and rememberances of all that created those cords.
It saddens me deeply when I hear the dread in some peoples words as they speak of the time they will be expected to spend with their families, as if it's the last thing they want to do with the last people they want to do it with. Somewhere along the way they forgot, or perhaps just never realized that it is all so much bigger and better than themselves! Some have very legitimate reasons for awful memories and that saddens me even more, it is a little less of a choice for them, instead a grim reality. May they be given the grace to see their way to a future of hope.
We have today, here, now. Yesterdays well lived help make today valuable. If we are fortunate to have tomorrow would it not be in our best interest to create the strong cords today that will make our future a warm soft cover of strength confidence and beauty, one that is pleasant and comforting to wrap up in?
Christmas has passed by only a couple of days. In a couple more days correspondence and transactions will be dated with an increased number indicating the start of a new year, the end of an old whose chances for greatness, for meaningful purposeful living, will never again be offered.
Christmas for me will always be a time filled with the thoughts and memories of a life well lived because I am one of the fortunate ones who has been personally touched by the founder of Christmas, the one for whom the day is established and celebrated. It is He who set the example by which to live in order to create the cords necessary for that pleasant comfortable cover that every one of us desires and needs. No matter what the future holds, the previously woven cords are mine, they cannot be taken from me.
It's been another sweet Noel. How many more might I dare to wish for, how many more might I have the privilege to spend in the company of my loved ones?
The new year quickly approaches, a fresh start, a whole new set of days ready to be filled with opportunities taken and not missed. May I rise to this challenge, may I emerge on the back side 365 days from now with a new cord to weave into my cover, and...
may you.
P.J.

Just before 8:00 a.m. on a September morning 32 years removed from this one, a second son was delivered to me. In that moment everything in the world was right. I was a very young mother with 1 son already and that day at 21 years old with these 2 small boys, there were really no other concerns in my life. The whole big vast world was narrowed down for me to that here and now, those boys and me, our family.
I had determined to have a natural childbirth, and by that I mean no drugs, and I decided I would breastfeed. Bearing in mind it was the 70's and "modern" childbirth techniques typically used drugs to aid in the "comfort" of the mother-to-be during the birth process, which involved a labor room from which when dilated to 10 centimeters, quite ready to "deliver", the laboring woman would first have to get on a gurney to be wheeled to the sterile delivery room where a move to yet another bed equipped with cold steel stirrups and bright overhead lighting awaited to assist the team of professionals required to make this thing happen. Episiotomies were automatically performed since it was easiest for a doctor to stitch a clean intended cut than an unintended messy tear, of course that added an extremely unpleasant element to recovery!
As soon as they baby was born he was whisked away to the nursery where he was cleaned up, measured and weighed, eye dropped, foot printed, poked and prodded, and about the same time mom was wheeled into yet another room, this the one she'd stay in for 3 days, the little bundle would be brought to her and for the first time, about 2 hours after delivery, they'd finally "meet". There were schedules to be kept in a well run maternity ward, so baby visited mom between meals and after the Doctor checks, returning to the nursery for the night so mom could get as much sleep as possible before going home to the real world and her new expanded role in it.
It was customary to complain about hospital food but I relished my 3 days of meals prepared for me and served to me in bed! Physical discomfort seemed to increase before it improved; still that 3 day hospital stay was the closest I'd ever get to being taken care of so well.
Baby care just automatically included bottle feeding which I intended to opt out of, choosing instead to rely on God’s design as the superior choice, and while disposable diapers were available, they were not nearly as dependable as today's Cadillac models! Those early versions leaked over the top and out the sides, often only to puddle on the lap of the baby holder, not good! These things meant to simplify the life of the modern mother proved to be pretty cumbersome and inadequate, so my Mom provided me with a diaper service that delivered fresh diapers and picked up the not so fresh, right at my door. I found cloth diapers multifunctional, making good cloths for burping and dusting in addition to their original intended purpose. Thinking on the subject of baby delivery and care began ever so slowly trending back toward the natural God intended methods and means.

A friend gave me a book that was a collection of birth stories written about the experiences of women and their babies who were part of a commune where she lived for a time. Remember it was the 70's, the decade following the 60's, flower power, make love not war, and all that stuff. I loved that book and shared it with pregnant friends, unfortunately somewhere along the way it was never returned to me. As one might imagine the lifestyles of the people were pretty unconventional, I was too, and the stories recounted on its pages encouraged me, I was definitely making the right choice for my baby and me. Babies born there were delivered by mid-wives right in the familiarity and comfort of their homes, or buses, or whatever their dwellings, with family and friends present, going about business as usual as much as possible up until delivery. No meds., no unnatural interference with what the human body was perfectly suited to do on its own, resulting in mothers and babies experiencing optimum health and quicker recovery. Each story was the account of a birth from start to finish sharing the various techniques tried and proven to assist in the event, and for appreciation of life, seeing the beauty in letting happen naturally what did for all the mothers of history, and in other cultures before modern medicine interfered. There were a couple stories that did not end well, either stillbirth, or birth defect, which likely would not have ended differently were they in a hospital.
While I was caught up in the idea of all natural I wanted fully educated doctors available to me and my baby, along with the facilities and equipment that could be needed in case of emergency. I only wanted to avoid some of what seemed unnecessary, unhelpful and unhealthiest for us both. I was convinced that the way God intended it to be was surely better than what modern medicine had decided to turn it into.
It proved to be a good choice, I was able to enjoy the miracle of it all and recount each detail to anyone who cared to hear. It was an experience that was empowering; I witnessed my own strength, determination, and ability to make a wise decision regardless of the mainstream. We fumbled through the first few weeks together, learning what worked and what didn't. It was sometimes clumsy and unattractive, but I didn't care because I was forging new territory for me, and I liked the acquisition of new knowledge and new experience.
Weeks turned to months that offered all the usual firsts of a baby’s life. When he started talking I was convinced his vocabulary was exceptionally advanced. He told grandma the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she'd made him was "delicious" before he was even 2 years old. He would keep an ice cube in his mouth until it melted. More than once I found him in the closet rubbing the hem of my long satiny nightgowns, sucking his thumb, an activity that must have brought back fond memories! He got "lost" in the field of high grasses and weeds next to our house when he and big brother were outside playing one fall day, "saved" by his red coat in the sight of my taller eyes. His new shoes helped him run so fast that he tripped and busted his lip through with a front tooth. Uncle Dave helped him learn to ride his 1st 2 wheeler. He liked his matchbox cars, underoos, and cowboy boots! He paid attention to detail and details easily attracted his attention. He got lost at the mall when I turned into a store and he failed to follow, he just stood outside the door way walking in circles, crying not knowing where I was. He would have walked off the edge of Swan Lake had I not stopped him, for fixing his gaze in the opposite direction of his step, he was a day dreamer. In school, what was happening outside the window was better than what was happening inside, though he liked school and did really well. He was meticulous in his assignments, sometimes to a fault as it prevented completion. He is still like that! He always had a best buddy even though the best buddy changed as he grew or we relocated. He liked science and thought he'd become a paleontologist, he pursued a graphic arts major, and became a balloon artist, his attention to detail still dominant in his character. He was a band geek and a vintage Volkswagen connoisseur, he doesn't touch the saxophone anymore but he still loves the VW's. He was always a bit of a bike aficionado and that lingers still, as a side business and as he contemplates and plans a bike trip around the country.
He likes to hang out with me from time to time. We go to Disney World or thrift stores, or get a meal together. He's my friend. I like him, usually! I've always loved him, but it's a wonderful thing to like him. I'm so very thankful for him. He is not a perfect person, which coincidentally neither am I, but he has a generous heart concerned for the well being of others. There is a genuine compassion for the burdened plight of so many people, he sees their need and responds with help, to fix a tire even it’s a man who can probably fix it himself, to chase down the thief of a stolen purse or bike, to seek help on another’s behalf, he's never met a stranger.
My wish for him and all my children is that they will find their place in this world and in so doing find fulfillment of purpose for being.
32 years of Jam's has been integral to my fulfillment of purpose, he helped me find my place in this world, and because his place has been with mine, it's a good place, a very very good place!

That's It, I'm Outta Here, I'm Leafing!

As it turned out, much to my disappointment, I was not able to go with my original tentative plan for a trip to Illinois this fall. I hoped to make it happen at this time figuring that somewhere between here and there at the end of October I'd be treated to the beauty of the fall leaves through the mountains, it really was decided all around the leaves, to be able to enjoy their short offering of unique beauty. Illinois is where I was born and raised, I still have family and friends there, so it would also have been good to be able to re-connect, but it was not to be, not this year.
Georgia however, was do-able! It came right down to the day before leaving to finally just give in to the pull of the fleeting opportunity, it was now or wait 365 days for another chance. I really didn't think I could afford to do it financially, I really didn't think I could afford not to do it spiritually! I needed refreshment, uplifting, invigoration, rejuvenation. I needed to live a little life outside it's usual boundaries.
Completely unsure of what to expect, relying on hope and intuition, I set out on my adventure. I visited my parents and brother a couple hours away, stopped in Mt Dora for a peek at the annual craft show the town hosts, something I hadn't done in a bunch of years, and from there headed toward Atlanta, planning to spend the day at Stone Mountain. I wasn't sure if that was far enough north to see the leaves change, but I also had spoken with a friend all the way up in the more mountainous northeast corner of the state that I intended to visit, so I thought if the leaves were not changed in Stone Mountain, maybe they would be nearer to my friends house.
It was several hours to drive from Mt Dora to Stone Mountain. When I arrived where I was ready to stop for the night it had been dark for a couple hours.
I'm usually not excited about finding a hotel, so it was with relief and pleasant surprise when I found the one I did, and at a great price! I really hit it off with the woman who worked the front desk, Linda, she even gave me a discount as an industry employee, It felt like a sign of more good things to come!
In my room I enjoyed a cup of coffee, a hot bath, and a little cable TV. I went to the business center to see what the computer indicated for the next days weather and a leaf watch update. The prognosis was not good, a storm was pushing in, and the leaf watch had not been updated for several days, I fell asleep not having a good sense for what the day would hold.
I awoke to thunderstorms.
Breakfast was hot and relaxing, so in light of the weather I lingered, looked at the weather on the computer, saw that there were tornado warnings in the very area I happened to be, and frantically considered what alternatives I might choose. Everything really was just not a feasible option for the time and money I was able to invest, but the thought of not seeing the beautiful leaves I'd come so far to see was painful! Check out was noon, so I hung around until to my delight the clouds started to break up, allowing the faintest rays of sun to show through. About 11:30 I said to myself, self, just do what you'd planned, what will be will be.
As I drove the interstate toward the state park My eyes teared up to see trees wearing their fall outfits of yellow, and orange, and even red, a sight I was unable to see as I drove to my destination the night before in the dark. I said thank you Lord, thank you Lord, thank you Lord, repeatedly! I was so relieved to know my trip would offer what I'd hoped!
Entering the state park, driving along the hilly winding road, I could see sun shining on the trees reflected in a lake. I walked, took pictures, picnicked, took pictures, toured Antebellum Plantation, took pictures, and smiled with a thankful heart for the privilege to be there.
I had to find a hotel for that night so I left the park about dusk, having fully enjoyed my time, anticipating what was still ahead.
After a good night's sleep I would venture on a couple hours further northeast to my friends house. When I spoke with her she said the storms had been there, stripping a lot of the leaves from the trees but they were still pretty. That drive deeper into the mountains was so peaceful and beautiful, even as the sun played hide and seek in the clouds. When it lighted the colors of the trees they glowed, when it dipped behind a cloud the colors took on a whole different appearance, no less beautiful. I felt like I'd been given the special gift of every possible lighting effect for my Autumn leaf viewing.
Visiting old friends is a treat in itself, let alone in the fall mountains. They took me to some spots that highlighted the leaf viewing experience, even graciously stopping anywhere it looked like a good picture might be taken! It sprinkled a little, but instead of dampening the experience, it was enhanced with the addition of a rainbow! We dined on fried green tomato's and fried chicken at Pat's place, and we shopped at Mercier's orchard for fresh picked apples and cider. We took the long winding road on the "back way" home, stopping to take pictures of several old dilapidated buildings, once someones home, abandoned, twisted and sagged, but somehow still barely standing. I love those buildings, they tell stories, ones I can only imagine, but I do love to imagine!
I stayed with my friends in their home that night, we laughed and enjoyed each other's company until it was a day well spent and had to call it quits.
It rained off and on all night, into the morning, as I began my trip back home, and for several hours into it. Even in the rain I felt the need to stop and take just one more picture, more than once!
As I headed south the rain subsided and the colors of fall receded in my rear view. I drove away reluctantly knowing it would be a long time, 365 days, before I might again be able to see them. But I had my pictures, both on my camera, and etched vividly in my grateful memory. I did it, I was there, present for the 2010 leaf viewing season. WooHoo for this Florida girl!
P.J.

I decided to buy a ticket to far
packed a bag and got in the car,
headed north on 75
to see to breathe to be alive.
It's mountain air I need to breathe,
take a gander at colored leaves,
oxygenate my city nose
with country air, down to my toes!
point my feet through Autumn's woods
a change of scenery'll do me good.
make a little time for me,
away from daily monotony,
refresh, re-spark, rejuvenate,
time is short, the leaves don't wait
when trees put on their finest gown
right before they fade to brown,
a little wind, a little rain,
soon strip the branches bare again.
Can't wait 365 days
for another chance, I'll go today!
Just me and my car out for a drive,
to see, to breathe, to be alive!

Here's My Heart's Bottle of Tears

Tears are a very interesting physical evidence of how deeply we are affected by life's "stuff".
Good stuff, bad stuff, happy stuff, sad stuff, any and all stuff, for us girls more easily, situations arise that can prompt tears. Sometimes the tears come and there may not even be a specific reason for them, they just show up!
I never used to be a crier, back in my youth when I was "stronger", forcing myself to refrain, not succumb to this display of weakness. What after all, would people think?! that I was just a sniveling helpless creature unworthy of any high calling, unequipped to take care of herself let alone anything important? I wouldn't allow myself an emotional indulgence that might cause anybody to judge me in the same harsh unrealistic way that I already judged myself!
I was afraid. Fear is a much bigger weakness!
Afraid to let the real me show for fear of rejection, or taunting, or ridicule, or non-acceptance, I didn't want anyone to not like me. It was easier to hide behind a facade of false perceptions. It still is sometimes!
The forced tears of girls with self motivated intentions too often do serve their calculated purposes. Unfortunately unsuspecting people who want to trust, especially the men in these women's lives, don't figure it out until it's too late, damage irreversible, or at least not without painful cost. Yet another reason in my mind to stifle my tears, I never wanted to be perceived or accused of being manipulative and deceptive, so if the need for tears overwhelmed me I would just leave the presence of witnesses. It was difficult, the "real" me is prone to wearing my heart out on my sleeve as they say!
Life lessons have taught that rejection is a given, I CAN'T please all the people all the time, just as all the people don't please me all the time! So what?! Some of the people will be pleased some of the time, just as I am pleased by some of the people some of the time.
Fear of facing the truths of genuineness, and the realities of life, is crippling! Especially when real life, meaningful life, full life, is what we all want most! So much time and energy wasted on the unimportant, in the folly of youth!
Now, since my youth has long been completed, I let it all hang out, not because it wasn't there before, but because it is much less important to me what any one else thinks about where I wear my heart, it's my sleeve! Now, I am a big blubbering baby! Now, I cry at commercials on t.v. as well as the full length features. Sometimes the tears that are prompted by something as frivolous as a t.v. commercial are pent up from completely unrelated issues, right at the surface ready to spill out at a moments notice, the t.v. commercial just notifies me! Now, my heart's full joy is as capable of instigating tears as the ones that flow out of sadness or sorrow.
It is as if emotions have turned me inside out, all of my innards are showing. The part that most people are never allowed to see. The part that is not what I would choose to have exposed. The naked truth of who I am, what makes me tick. That which comes up from the deepest, innermost places of my being, my soul.
The good, the bad and the ugly.
The second half of the 8th verse of the 56th chapter of psalms contains words that fall on my heart like honey to bees, nectar to butterflies, sweet sweet savory sustenance, desert for every meal!
The psalmist who is experienced in overwhelming emotions of fear, lonliness, and heartbreak writes: "Put my tears into Your bottle; Are they not in Your book?" Clearly he has learned by his experiences and has proven to himself that he can safely put every confidence in his God, who he fully believes because of his experience, knows him, and is concerned with all he cares about in this life. God sees each tear, records when and why each one falls, etched permanently on His Fatherly heart as surely as if the innermost part, could be contained in a bottle, or written about in a book! Not even tears divulge all of the secrets, only God truly sees those inner parts, the parts where the tears are birthed. And He captures those parts of us so none are lost or overlooked as unimportant. He protects the secrets they dare to expose, the secrets of the soul that can't even find words for expression. And it is written and recorded in this psalm whose words have been preserved through thousands of years so that I could read these same words and have this same confidence, to know I am cared for as a father his child.
A little further along in the same psalm I read "God is for me". Not against me like it sometimes feels,. When it seems no one is on my side, I am completely alone, that there is no one at all who could possibly relate to my experience, and that there is no way out of these circumstances, none, these words tell me it isn't so. I am NOT alone! And so it is "In God I have put my trust, I will not be afraid"...because that is the hope. The hope that there is someone who cares and understands, that there is a solution to everything, God is rooting "for me", He is hope, and hope offers me a future. How could anyone survive hopelessly?! More than just hope though, knowing He is "for me", gives me the confidence to move forward into the uncertainties of my future, as opposed to being paralyzed by the fear of it, I am assured that my future is not uncertain with Him, He is with me, and He is "for Me", no matter where it leads me! As a parent would console his child, my heavenly father is there to scoop me into His arms, take my face in His hands so that my eyes turn up to meet His, and there see how intensely His own heart breaks with mine, "for me". He quietly reassures me, soothing my aching heart, collecting my tears in His bottle so that nothing of me is lost or wasted. These tiny teardrops are the pieces of me that best reflect Him, His compassion, His own heart.
I have a little heart shaped bottle that once held Avon's "Here's My Heart" perfume, it now holds tiny Austrian crystals that I cut apart from a vintage necklace, to re-use the old beads in new ways. It is my attempt to create what I envision a bottle of my tears might look like to God, they are precious to Him, for they came up from deep inside of me, the me He created, representative of my pains, joys, fears and triumphs, and He cares about all that concerns me. So I see them as beautiful to Him, like rare jewels of great value and beauty.
Today I was reminded of these words as I witnessed the broken heart of a loved one. I took the bottle out of the cupboard it was in and placed it on the windowsill in the kitchen. The sun shines strong through that window in the afternoon making the "tears" sparkle, like treasures no longer buried.
It serves as a reminder to me that I am valuable, never forgotten. What I feel, God feels with me. Just as I ache for my children when they have needs, and as I thrill to their successes, He too as my Heavenly Father is affected by what breaks my heart, or makes my heart swell with joy.
No matter the reason, we never cry unnoticed or alone.
...Put my tears in Your bottle; Are they not in Your book?
P.J.

Flu Season!

My kitchen isn't feeling good. I think it's got the flu. It threw up all over the place, all night long!
Everything that should be in the cupboards isn't, the trash that should be emptied hasn't been, the counters just look crumby, the table that normally twinkles is dull and blotchy, the floor is cold and clammy, and to top it off I think my temperature is rising just thinking about it! Which means I've been infected with it's infirmity, oh woe is me!
I suppose I'll have to run us a bath, prescribe some soothing sudsy fluids, be up half the night administering TLC,
...wait, what's this???!!! Drewsky M.D.s.(M.y D.arling s.on) is taking to the task, nursing the poor kitchen back to health!
It turns out it was just a 24 hour bug, and the kitchen and I are on the road to recovery. We'll be back up and running, feeling like our old selves again in no time!
That's my kind of "chicken soup"!

OMGoodness those shoes!

Sometimes, a force far more powerful than myself can stave off, especially considering my weakened vulnerable position, is to blame for my completely irresponsible behavior, this past week a good example.
I went shopping.
Several times.
Enough said right there! One can predict how the story unfolds! Or can one?
Seriously, who do I think I am, Imelda Marcos???!!!
Accountable for what I've done, and according to my count, I'm at 1 pair of shorts, 3 hair clips, 3 dresses, 3 tops, and 3 pairs of shoes! If I were a betting woman I'd have advised myself to find a trifecta to wager on for a certain cash fall!
In my defense I think it's important to clarify that I shopped the outlet stores. So all of my purchases were very reasonable, even cheap. Well, all but 1 pair of shoes that took literally 3 (there's that 3 again!) trips to the store to convince myself to make the purchase, and then only then, because only because, I found a dress at another store that along with said shoes would be the perfect ensemble for my sons upcoming wedding!
Need justified.
This was by far a unique out of the ordinary purchase. These shoes are sweet confections like foot frosting meant to be visually savored, or a bouquet of foot flowers, little presents wrapped with a bow to tickle the toes.
And they're red!
With pink bottoms!
Can you hear the choir singing?!
Even I have a breaking point, a point at which the temptation can no longer be resisted. I did my level best, resisting not once but twice. A second trip to the store with the tempting shoes was for my daughter to see a dress I thought she might like for her brother's wedding, she'll be a bridesmaid. She saw the shoes, I saw the twinkle in her eye! She said please buy them, I said I couldn't. The dress didn't work so we went to another store, there she did find a dress, and there too did I! A nice red dress for the Christmas themed wedding.
When we got back home we each tried on our new dresses for the other to see, and that's when it hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks! I was thoroughly overtaken, all resistance gone, excitement rose to uncontrollable heights as adrenaline pumped through my veins pushing a rush of what could only be described as the chocolate equivalent of ecstasy to my brain. It was as good as done, no turning back, the one and only pair of those shoes in my size, oh please don't be gone, would be mine! Perfect with the red dress for my sons Christmas themed wedding, perfect!
I was able to reason with myself that I got the dress for such a great price I could spend more for the shoes and still come out spending what I'd spent on a dress and shoes for my other sons wedding this past August, even steven. Yes it was OK, I gave myself permission.
In August I bought the most expensive dress I'd ever purchased in my whole life, just under $100.00. Now in October the most expensive shoes I've ever purchased in my whole life at $80.00! I know a lot of people would find that incredible, but I could have under my normal frugal limitations purchased 3 or 4, or even 10 or 12 pairs of shoes for that same $80.00, but these beauties are special, the occasion they will accompany my feet to is special. I will just have to sacrifice somewhere else to make it up to me!
I drove back to the store acutely conscious of the unnecessarily low speed limits, parked the car, walked briskly through the door directly to the shelf where after a couple previous visits I knew the shoes were displayed, picked up the one and only size 6 and 1/2, made sure all was in order, tucked them gingerly into their bright pink box, and practically skipped to the register! I had to force myself not to grin from ear to ear out of concern for my fellow shoppers knowing there was no way they were about to make a more gleeful purchase than mine would be, and I pitied them! I was the picture of cool, calm, collectedness, but inside I was leaping like frogs, jumping for joy, positively giddy over the secret treasure in the soon to be mine pink box!
The cashier admired my choice, she showed the girl working the register next to her with a "look at these" exclamation. We all nodded and smiled in understanding approval.
When I got home again, I tried the shoes on with the dress. They say money can't buy happiness, well I'm here to say that money can buy shoes and shoes can make me happy! Albeit fleeting, for I am quite aware that the appeal of even these dainty darlings for the "dogs" will one day lose their ability to steal my material affections like they do on this day. But this day they have thrilled me and I am confident in their ability to thrill on numerous future occasions, the first of which will be the wedding of son #6.
My daughter will wear them, she and I share shoes, she shares mine, I let her.
When I prepare for my sons wedding, stepping toward yet another bittersweet milestone, my feet will be consoled, hugged and cheered by these shoes that make my heart skip a beat, while they make my feet carry me through another family transition. They are worth that.
For all the days between now and then I'll have my $3.00 green shoes that mimic the same little lattice pattern as the one on the Palm Beachy green sweater I just got, and the $2.49 clear jellies with silver trim that I'll wear with the gray and white plaid shirt I already had, representative of my usual shoe shopping habits.
The deep end is a rare plunge for me. I jumped in, splashed around a bit, and I liked it! It was nice, better than nice, I got great shoes, squared away the wedding outfit 5 weeks ahead of the date, we'll double their use my daughter and I, and thinking about it, I stimulated the economy!
It's a good thing I've done.
You're welcome!
P.J.

funny sign, zebra at conservatory, rhino at conservatory, great old church, my Grandparents

My Dad and his brothers as small boys, sunset as viewed on the pontoon boat, cowgirl Patty, the "Katie room", one of the many great barns

The "lady in the red", chilly beautiful entrance to Mammoth Cave, great roof design on barn, my brother Mark sitting at the lake, garden life

Welcome Fall! Thank you Summer!

Chocolate land, on our way to the restaurant, huge cross in the sky, Mom's sisters and I, more garden life




Fall has debuted for the year 2010 with a much needed reprieve from the intense heat and humidity of Summer. While Summer holds a special place in my heart always, I am relieved to step out the door in the morning and not have the breath sucked out of me for the stark contrast in temperature and moisture, between the inside air conditioned, and the outside Au naturale!
Here in the tropics summer is best enjoyed indoors, or wet! Fortunately it's not far from here to a beach, and that is where you'll find me along with the natives on days that offer freedom, and freedom will be stolen in moments on days that don't extend the offer. The beach draws the spirit, it's sun shines brighter against a sky whose blueness demands longing appreciation, tempting, even taunting, until one must give in and retreat to the shore, even if only from the front seat of the car for a quick peek along it's edge to admire the white outlines on the blue and green liquid peaks and tubes. It's enticing beauty is year 'round of course, but Summer is the best gettin' wet time!
Traditionally, Summer is also the best time for some traveling. My preferred mode of transport from here to everywhere is four wheels on an interstate paved with anticipation and a change of scenery. Off the beaten path is where the best treasures of the land present themselves though.
As we (my parents and brother and I) ventured north into the middle states, and then over to the east again, I particularly enjoyed the farm lands neat, straight, sometimes undulating rows of tall corn on the flats and hills of unending acreage, as far as the eye could see, surrounding clusters of old farm houses and silos and barns, beautiful barns. I saw perhaps for the first time, real beauty and character in those barns. They seemed to be the heartbeat of the whole farm, where the life of it actually flowed from and back to on a daily basis. Some were pristine clothed in coats of red or white paint. Some had roof shingles arranged in various patterns and colors like fashionable all weather hats. Some had huge advertisements painted on the side to be seen by the drivers on the highway, making them a 3 dimensional billboard of sorts.
But the barns I really looked for and got excited about seeing were the unpainted, with warped weathered gray wood boards whose large gaps allowed daylight to show through from the other side. Maybe there had been fresh paint on their boards at one time, but that was years ago, a lifetime removed, when the family who tended the farm was young, and barefoot children fished in the pond, and rode horses, and whittled sticks, and their laughter, and the drone of Dad's tractor drown out the sound of the cars that whiz past now on the interstate. I could completely imagine the lives that those barns may have once represented, I could almost see the activities of the farm and it's inhabitants as the sun illuminated dragonflies over now un-tilled fields.
As we drove deeper into the heart of America, through these fields whose barns twisted and sagged with age, there unexpectedly rose towns rich with more history, and cause to again imagine the lives of previous dwellers. Rough hewn stone churches with intricate, Gothic, stained glass windows, and towering ornamental steeples broke the skyline. Fancy dark red bricks and painted clapboards on houses with stately porches and columns made it easy to imagine neighbors gathered on porch swings and rocking chairs while flapping a lazy paper fan and sipping iced tea or lemonade. Front porch sitters who were at one time the wealthy town folks, the doctor, town mayor, veterinarian and department store owners. These lined up in a prelude to the ornate store fronts at the hub of a once bustling main street now only half occupied with assorted local merchants, or last hold-outs like the post office, drugstore or bank. Most of the locals now resolved to a Saturday trip to Wal-mart in the more populated town up the road a piece, the wealthy having left for more prosperous greener pastures in the big cities long ago, taking with them their wealth, leaving only the regular folks content to breathe the country air.
We visited a forest. We call wooded areas in the tropics "forests", but in comparison to the woods of the north it is clear they don't deserve such a lofty title. The height and density of the northern woods hides secrets from all the rest of the world, secrets that are willingly shared with anyone who enters and searches. Even the search is easy, really as if the forest life is just waiting excitedly to show itself off! Tall trees sway and leaves rustle as the wind blows them against each other in a standing ovation to us for visiting. Flying insects pass closely to have a look at us, attracting our attention they light nearby, so we can have a closer look at them. It's an interaction of mutual interest. Inch worms, woolly worms, and caterpillars just go about their business, hesitating briefly when they sense our presence may be too close for their comfort, but after a moments hesitation continue on with the task begun.
Sunshine through trees projects patterns on the forest floor that move as the pattern makers move, creating a constantly changing display of light and motion. Combined with the sounds, the critters, and even the fragrance rich with green growing aliveness, it is a theatre, every moment a premier.
A surprising rush of chilly air breaks the heat and humidity of this particular day as the sun came out after a rain, catching us off guard until in our curiosity we find we are at the top of a descent into the mouth of Mammoth Cave. We had a guided 2 hour tour of the 55 degree interior of the cave scheduled for the next morning.
Just before dusk, we started to spot deer, as we caught a peripheral glimpse of movement, we'd point out to each other where to look. Dad saw a deer up ahead a little in the woods near a clearing at the end of our trail where civilization would again greet us, and said "look, right there, you see him? See that lady in the red? he's just to the left of her. When we got up the path a little farther we laughed to see that the "lady in the red" Dad was talking about, was in fact a fire hydrant! That's a good example of the upside of senior vision!
Kenny, son #6 turned 23 that day. It was a great day, 23 years ago, presently, and all the days between!
We left the forests of Kentucky with renewed appreciation for the beauty of creation, and great memories of our time there.
Continuing our trip we passed a huge towering white cross against a blue sky of puffy clouds. Water towers proudly announced the name of their towns, and cityscape's upon entrance, exits, and just skirting the edges, provided interest unique only to that place.
We spent time with family, both in our vehicle and in multiple states.
There were sisters in Illinois, with charming homes to share. I stayed with Aunt Gloria, I love her name, and I really like her house. It oozes vintage country charm, with wood floors that interact with each step, 1 bathroom that had a lazy in no hurry to fill the bathtub faucet, the television tuned in to Shirley Temple movies on Saturday night and bluegrass gospel music on Sunday morning. For 3 days I was quite literally in a different world, and loving every minute of it!
All 3 Aunts had lovely flower gardens full of colorful northern summer blooms, and the butterflies that were attracted to them seemed to want our attention, but usually not so long for the camera to prove it!
My cousin Michelle saddled up her horses for an evening ride in the back 40, accompanied by her golden retriever and miniature daschund. That tiny little dog leaped up and down through and over knee high grasses for at least half of our ride before he was too tired to continue and had to call it quits, what a funny determined little thing he is!
The following afternoon was spent at Aunt Helen's, who rustled up some fried chicken and fixen's for lunch. We attended Sunday morning service at Aunt Betty's small country church, gathered for lunch at a local restaurant with the whole group, and ended our visit with goodbye's in the parking lot. We were on our way to the brother's house in Indiana.
Uncle George and Aunt Katie were already hosting Uncle Bob and Aunt Judy when we arrived on Sunday evening. We filled their large home with people in every room and no space left over. I was given the honor of using the "Katie" room, where 3 generations of Katie's have slept. Pinks, whites, flowers, antiques and bric a brac decorated the entire room in a frilly feminine haven, mine for the duration of our stay!
One evening was spent reminiscing over black and white photos of the boys as children, and younger men, each injecting their own unique memories of the people, places and times. So much life lived to be fitted and stored away now in a box and envelopes, it was good to have had the experiences, and it was good to re-live them, even if the specifics were a little unclear, or a name forgotten, even if just for the moment.
Meals were enjoyed out on the 2nd floor deck overlooking a beautiful green lawn with more of those northern flower beds full of flowers and butterflies.
There's a trail through the woods that Mark (my brother) and I walked on, leading down to the lake, the same lake that Uncle George captained his pontoon boat on for us one evening. We admired the impressive architecture of the homes on the lake, docked at the marina for supper at an outdoor restaurant on shore, and boated until we'd had our fill of the sunset and night lights. My 75 year old uncle was like a youngster showing us his cool new gadget, he was gliding on life as we glided on that lake, I've never seen him happier and more relaxed, it was a moment of our lives well spent.
"Little" Katie Georgina (my cousin, named after both her parents!) and her husband Mark came one evening to visit, and all in all I think we discussed, debated, and solved pretty much all the problems of the world in just those few short days!
Next stop Ohio where we had a safari scheduled, who'd a thunk, a safari in the midst of the rolling farm lands of Ohio! "The Wilds" is 14 square miles of conservation and preservation of endangered species of exotic animals and plants and even insects, recognizing their important roles in the unique design for health and productivity of each other and the environment. We toured in an open air bus, our driver was a retired school teacher who told us several times how lucky we were to have literally all of the animals come very near to our bus for the best views, and photo opportunities. She was ready with lots of information such as this interesting fact that I had never heard, white rhino's all poop in a common pile! They create for themselves a specific area designated to be their "outhouse" shared by all, and we were the lucky witnesses to this unusual phenomena in action!
Our trip took us next to the reason we planned the whole thing in the first place. My nephew Jedediah David decided he should marry his best girl, and so we ventured to Pennsylvania to witness the occasion.
We scheduled a stop on the way to see a play called "Joseph" at the Millennium Theatre. It was a beautiful production, a well scripted arrangement, professional singers, actors, costumes and sets. No detail was left unattended, including us hoping we could come again for a future performance!
With yet more time to fill up on vacation type activities we toured Amish country. Walked along rows of antique stores, admired the inner workings of the Amish lifestyle and the function of their homes and farms, and enjoyed the calm of the culture.
Between Amish country and Jedediah's wedding, was Hershey Pennsylvania, well maybe not right in between, but not so far that it wasn't worth every mile farther to get there, of course we went! Chocolate should be given it's due respect. When I was a kiddo my parents took us there. We toured the Hershey plant, saw the production of the various candies the company made and in the end got a free candy bar! I remember how good it smelled there! Things are done differently there now, some things improved on from a touristy point of view, such as the 3D chocolate movie, that made me scream! It was great. and the tour is now a ride like the ones at Disney where you cruise in a little "car" through the animated story of chocolate making, which includes some interesting history about Mr Hershey and the beginnings of his company. For instance, he and his wife never had children of their own, but loved children, so they started a school that operates still, for children of lesser means to be able to obtain a fine education, and he started and failed at candy making, finding on further efforts some success with caramels before moving to chocolate and making it big! Of course the highlight of a visit to "Chocolate World" is the chocolate they still give away!
Jed married his sweet heart in a ceremony officiated by his Dad, my brother Dave, and had a dance off at the reception with his new Father-in-law, and if I say so myself, did win, but not without stiff competition! And with that, another family gathering drew to an end.
So we began our return to the place we call home, filled with love for the Creator, love of country and love of family, knowing we were fortunate for the experiences.
All the time in the car made it possible to knit a scarf, take photos, most of which were too blurry to keep, read some magazines, and work a couple puzzles. There was candy to savor, snacks to crunch, and moments to doze.
Home again after 4000 or so miles, and a good nights sleep we added up the credit card receipts to figure out the cost, it wasn't bad at all for what we were able to do, and it seemed it had already quickly become part of the history of our family. I was ready to plan another trip, this one had been so good!
Which brings me back to where this started, Fall. My windows are open, I hear the birds chirping, lawns being mowed in the distance. The weather is so beautiful that yard work is actually a pleasure instead of the burden it can be in the overwhelming heat of summer. I imagine the leaves will be changing soon, maybe even as I type these words, and I would like to see them, it's been too long.
I have been contemplating a trip up north, to visit friends that I didn't get to see on the already filled summer trip, and haven't seen in a couple of years. I have time off from work here in October. Yes, I think a trip is in order, just as the summer corn rows called out to me, and the forests, and the architecture and the barns, and the butterflies and the rhino's, and the aunts, uncles and cousins, I hear the wooing of the colored leaves of fall, Patty, Patty, Patty, come, come to us Patty, we won't wait for you, we haven't long, come.
I hear the call.
I really hope I'm able to accept the invitation!

P.J.

Lady Summer

Summer, hesitantly, gracefully,
concedes to Autumn's bold arrival.
She bids farewell to her veil of green with a curtsy,
and a kiss of amber, russet and plum.

He laughs at her, and puffs his cheeks
to blow his chilly breath
like a thief stealing her last,
casually drifting to earth with a blanket of dry brown.

However even he, in his bold audacity, will have to bow,
for Old Man Winter is even bolder.
When his turn comes
he'll shake his icy finger in the face of bold Autumn.

So Summer, while we have been loyal to you,
and you to us,
Autumn must have his chance,
we look to him now, for all he has to offer.

There are leaf piles to be jumped in,
pumpkins to carve, corn stalks and Indian corn to display,
back yard bon fires, hay rides and apple pies to bake.
We will love him, as we have loved you.

We will not forget you dear Summer,
we will longingly anticipate your return,
for none is as gentle as you,
no other shines and warms like you,


You have worked hard for us and served us well,
we understand every Beauty needs her rest,
so until next time dear lady,
permission to slumber is granted.
P.J.

The Holiday

In order to accomplish all that is required of us, requirements sometimes attached to us by only ourselves, and while making every possible human attempt to complete these sometimes unreasonable lists of demands, seeing ourselves falling farther behind, we wind up having a mini meltdown.
Overwhelmed by demands either real or perceived, I have thought to myself and said out loud, to no one listening, "I can't take it anymore", "I need a clone", "I quit"!
Well, I'm still here, I didn't quit, and all those times I most needed assistance, that didn't come; and things, that I had to do with out; and money, that was always short; and time, that passed whether I used it well or not; all those circumstances I thought I wouldn't make it through, I did. In the long run I can clearly see how those life experiences were the most beneficial in shaping me into the more able individual that I now am. Although I, like everyone, prefer the mountain top experiences to the lows of the valley, if not for the valley I would not know the value of the mountain top!
My daughter in law expressed "I need 2 of me" in a mini meltdown moment like this recently. I could sympathize with her, any seriously plugged-in wife and mother could, we have all been there, and will go there again! We girls MUST nurture, which translates, do for others, make life comfy for those you love, give, give, give, sometimes even to our own detriment! We are pre-wired to do so. Sometimes our wires get crossed or touch another live wire and we short circuit, that's just a natural fact of this class of the double X chromosome!
When I was smack dab in the middle of the Mom thing, surrounded by needy youngsters like baby birds with their mouths open as wide as they could be, loudly demanding attention be given to their "needs", necks stretched up toward me in greedy anticipation of whatever I'd fill them up with in life, nearly broken many times under the weight of responsibility for so many other people, you bet I was swimming in the sea of oh my goodness what have I done and how do I get us out of this mess!
The truth is, I actually had a lot of outlets. I was fortunate to have a few wonderful friends who were immensely supportive, understanding and encouraging, their value to me must never be underestimated. I loved making things with my own hands from little bits of nothing, turning the nothing bits into a special something to give as a gift or to keep and enjoy for myself, it created a great escape out of the doing all the stuff I have to do thoughts, into thoughts without restriction to dream. I also expressed my thoughts on paper; napkins, journals, notebooks, envelopes, any piece of paper handy at the moment I needed to write, so I wouldn't wear out the ears of those willing to listen, even the willing ears could not bear all I seemed to need to unload! It proved to be a fine therapy for all these years, one that I highly recommend, especially when used in conjunction with my most healing method of therapy, the hot bath, a tested and proven activity producing intensely effective results. Every day of my adult life has drawn to an end in a tub of hot liquid therapy! As life has evolved I find the call of the bath coming sometimes at mid-day, or as soon as I walk in the door after work just in time for supper and a favorite show while I snuggle up to my best chair. My bath is the one moment acceptable to everyone, that life is all about me! 20 or 30 minutes out of every 24 hours that I am allowed to be self indulgent, guilt free. Everyone who's anyone around here knows it is to their benefit to allow me this indulgence! I have trained them well!
The following was written 10 years ago when the house was still full, and the busy-ness of life stole away our days. My daughter in law's recent remark reminded me of this time, it seems fitting to share.
Happy "holidays"!

It had neared the end of a long exhausting day that held the usual demands of the younger members of my family. Trips to and from their elementary, middle and high schools, trips to and from band practice, ball practice, and work for the oldest who still needed to be picked up. The disappointing look through bare cupboards and fridge for something to whip up into a culinary delight, which all too often ended up being a ground beef goulash of sorts, this night no exception. Everyone ate, but only out of hunger, without tingling taste buds it was completely consumed.
After the already over extended day of housework, dinner had left yet another mess to contend with. It was so distressing to even look at that I divied out the chores to the younger ones. Each offered their argument as to why they shouldn't have to be the one to wash dishes, sweep the floor, etc. etc.. I had an uneasy feeling, partly guilt for making them use their little bit of time before bed to do cleaning, after all they'd had a long day too, and partly resentment that they wouldn't just do it, just to be helpful, just because I, their Mom, wanted some help.
I might have liked to take a walk, but was tired, and it really wouldn't be so fulfilling without a companion to talk with, to sympathize, to understand, someone over the age of adolescence!
Or maybe a little shopping, a hunt through clearance racks at a favorite store in search of a bargain, providing me with a sense of accomplishment even more enjoyable than the purchased item, however the clearance racks still require at least a minimal cash flow, which was enough to abolish the idea. The gas gauge in my car was on "E", and if my purse had a gauge it would indicate the same.
I couldn't help but feel I was in a box. My "box" was usually a nice place to be, but today it was cramped and unattractive. I needed rest, real rest, but it looked like a hot bath would be my only offer of escape.
I walked to the china cabinet for one of a set of etched pilsner glasses, filled it with ice water and took it to the bathroom with me. I chose a sweetly fragrant bath soap with a matching lotion for after, and lit a candle.
The room was small, with square footage purely functional, even though I'd done what I could to make it a sanctuary knowing it would certainly be. An ivory pedestal sink added a hint of grandeur to the space, soft blue and white paint on the walls, a shiny blue tile floor that reflected tiny flickers of light from the single candle, and a white lace shower curtain combined to make it an appealing refuge for such a time as this.
No one would disturb me, they'd have to get into the bedroom first, I'd made sure to lock that door. It was as remote as I could get within the confines of our little house. It would, as it had so many times, be my safe haven for the next half hour.
I hardly recognized my own face in the mirror, who was this, where did "I" go?! Dark puffy eyes, messy pulled up hair, pale cheeks and lips. It was depressing and discouraging to see, and to think that the days of my youth were spent.
No need to linger I thought.
I like my bath water very hot, and my hope was that enough time had lapsed since the last load of laundry for the hot water heater to recuperate and fill my tub. Little did anyone know it was much more than a bath I retreated to, how disappointed I would be if I couldn't fill the tub with every hot soothing therapeutic drop of softened well water, an even greater horror would be to discover that the softening system had run out of salt and the water would not be soft! As I stepped gingerly into the tub, slowly sinking up to my neck in the steamy almost clear water (well water is always a shade of yellow), I was relieved to realize I could relax completely, it was hot, and it was soft!
With just that one candle lighting the room it was pretty enough that I could imagine everything on the other side of the door was perfect and in order. There would be someone waiting for me to emerge and carry me away, perhaps after my bath a nice massage, a manicure and pedicure, and the most silky smooth gown to lull around in until sweet restful sleep closed my eyes for the night.
The air filled with the aroma of flowers and the gentle moving water was taking me to a fresh place. I found myself dreaming my way onto the deck of a sailboat. I heard the skipper say "land ho", sliding my sunglasses down my nose I could clearly see the approaching shoreline. There were palm trees with fronds bending in a gentle breeze, flowering vines wrapped round in a lazy tropical embrace, and powdery white sand glistened in the sunshine. Birds chirped and squawked and sang cheerful unhindered invitations as if saying c'mon, there's nothing to stop you, come join us. I dove into the warm sea and swam to the beach where a cushioned lounge awaited me. On a table nearby were a stack of my favorite magazines, a bowl of cool succulent fruits, and the tallest pitcher if icy refreshment. I sank into the cushions, breathed deep the rejuvenating air, and gratefully partook of the offerings. This, this was just what I needed, a little get away from it all, this...
The time was short however, and soon passed. A chill crept in, the sun began to fade, I knew it was time to go. Hesitantly I began my return, I glanced back but the shore was already out of view. The soft warm breeze and sparkling sand but a spot in my thoughts. The flowery fragrance lingered, I breathed it in, wrapped up in a towel stepped over the edge of the tub, and snuffed out the candle.
As I opened the door I could see the crisp white cotton gown I'd laid out on the bed before my bath, waiting there for me, just as I'd left it. It did look inviting with a lace yolk and pleated ruffles. It smelled like sheets from the clothesline, fresh, clean, it felt smooth. I brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, and applied a little skin cream. I dared to peer again into the mirror. The reflection was not as ominous as it had been just a few minutes before, in fact I was encouraged to see shiny teeth and silkened hair. The pretty lace gown softened the tired look of my still dark eyes, but my cheeks were a little rosy, like they'd been kissed by the sun. Somehow, I felt like been on holiday, though I knew it was only a bath. Or was it? Already I hoped I could go again, maybe tomorrow, yes tomorrow, say...8:30?!
P.J.

911

Today we were shaken.
Indeed it's tremors were felt the world over.
Fear, doubt, uncertainty;
certainty, sorrow, anger, gripping souls.

Until now it had only peeked through our windows,
stuck it's toe in our waters,
called us names then ran to hide:

but now, now it has injected us with poison,
severed a tendon,
stolen what had been purchased with our blood.

It's in our face:
we hear, smell, taste, and perceive
so much more accurately than yesterday.

Darkness has boldly flashed it's naked truth,
blazed into the "apple" of our eye,
pierced our American heart
and boggled our mind.

The alarm has been sounded,
We are alert.

The epitome of human depravity
embraced and crowned;
horrific, unfathomable, unconscionable, despicable,
shocking, surreal;
yet, only a matter of time, almost expected.

Evil reigns.
There's not a way to comprehend such consuming evil.
It's reign is temporary.

Righteousness alone prevails, as time will surely reveal,
this time no exception.

Today we were shaken,
our knees were buckled,
by the grace of God we stand,
still.

P.J.

Mark, My August Delight

August is summer's closing bell. The warning indicator that whatever you may have been planning to do before the summer ends needs to get done or the chance will soon be gone. The final offer to feel the year's warmest sun.
It's August's obligation each year to clearly attract attention to the end. Not only the end of a wonderful summer season, but the end of a season in our lives. For me, it represents also a beginning.
I have a tendency to measure the year from August to August in my mind, instead of December's final day and January's first, solely because I looked forward to summer for so many years around a school schedule, first as a student, then as a Mother of students. I have been in school, or scheduling my life around school, for 43 years! It should be no wonder that summer is so beloved.
August 1984 was like none before it, or since. I was pregnant with baby #5. It was a pregnancy that proved to be a few months in my life that would test me in many ways, the most significant of which, was completely out of my control, but only mine, it was never out of God's control!
About 4 months into it I began having a dull backache. I had a routine doctor's appointment already scheduled, and told him about the pain. He explained that it could be pressure from the baby, but even as he was saying the words I was thinking, huh, really, the baby is only the size of a thumb, I've done this a couple times before and never felt anything like this! I went home, but became increasingly uncomfortable. I went again to see him the next day. He said it could be a kidney stone. He tried to be reassuring, using the tip of his ballpoint pen to show me the "average" size of a kidney stone. He said he really didn't want to take x-rays which would be the only way to know for sure, because of the potential risk to my developing baby. He said to drink a lot of water, some cranberry juice would be good, avoid milk, and hopefully if that was the source of my pain it would "pass" on it's own. He told me I could use Tylenol around the clock as needed for discomfort. That second visit was on a Friday.
Pain has a tendency to increase at night and on the weekend, and increase it did! A couple of my kids got sick with the flu which exacerbated the situation in every way one might imagine! I was on a heating pad or in a hot tub of water continuously, I could do little if anything about my sick children. I was trying to be brave, to work through the pain, knowing if I went to the doctor again he would have no choice but to order the x-rays. I was hoping to avoid that. Monday morning normal office hours could not have come around more excruciatingly slowly, I knew I had to go but I didn't know how I'd get there. I had sick kids, a mountain of flu ruined bed sheets, no clean dishes, and had consumed an entire bottle of 50 Tylenol in just 4 days in an effort to ease my pain. Birthing babies was preferable to what I had been experiencing!
My friend came over to check on me that morning after her repeated attempts all weekend to reach me by phone had failed, she was worried. I thank God every time I think of her, for the treasure of her friendship!
When she walked into my house she was in shock, I could see it all over her face. The shades were still down so the house was dark, it was smelly from the pile of icky sheets, and the kitchen was a disaster! She said why didn't you call me?! I couldn't, I really just couldn't! Given the circumstances the whole thing was a bit of a blur.
She immediately took control, got me to the doctor, who ordered the x-rays, which revealed a stone the size of a dime in my left ureter. Apparently the pregnancy caused it to move, completely blocking the function of that kidney, thus the ridiculous pain! I was admitted to the hospital, assigned an urologist, and fitted with a custom catheter 14 inches long, with the hope it would be long enough to allow the baby to get as big as he would without the need to repeat the procedure. It was designed with a loop on each end to keep one end in my kidney, and the other in my bladder, allowing function of these body parts for the duration of the pregnancy. This was inserted externally through the urethra without meds, again for the sake of the baby, using only a topical application of something that acted similarly to Novocain. My ObGynie held my hand and talked with me as the urologist positioned the catheter. I gained a great new respect for him that day, he was no longer just my doctor, he was a caring, concerned, compassionate individual that had with that one gesture earned my complete trust and confidence. It was of tremendous benefit and comfort for me to have him there! By the end of the procedure I had been fitted with an all internal catheter that would allow the kidney to properly drain until 6 weeks after the birth of my baby when I would have surgery to remove the stone.
When I returned home, all of my laundry and dishes were clean, my house was no longer stinky, there was soothing light filtering through the curtains, and food was prepared, My friend had valued me by caring for me when I so needed to be cared for, and by loving my children in their Mother's absence. I could never say too much what a treasure she is to me, even with 1500 miles and 25 years between us, and that time in our lives!
I became a project for my doctors, I was a unique "2 fer" patient. I would be on a urine purifying med for the rest of my pregnancy, and I would need to drink water, lots of water to prevent infection or rejection of the foreign object in my body, and to keep that narrow catheter from becoming clogged, lest the entire process need to be done all over again. My team of ObGynie's kept a close eye on things, assuring me that my baby was developing on track in spite of the trauma to his "incubator". I was warned that an early delivery was probable, maybe too early for baby to thrive and survive.
I prayed.
They could save babies born at 5 months gestation, Lord, just let me get to 5 months. That came, and passed, and I said Lord, 6 months is ever so much better, let me get to 6 months. That came, and passed, and I said wow, Lord, 7 months and my baby would have a fighting chance, let me get to 7 months! At that time a new set of x-rays were ordered to make sure the catheter was in place and serving as intended. The technician presented me with a copy of that most unique x-ray, my very first picture of baby # 5. Next to my hip bones and rib bones are the tiny ribs, spine, legs, arms, and skull of that little guy, all right where they belong! And the stone and catheter clearly where they were when they were last seen. 7 months came, and passed, and so did 8 months, and I was feeling confident that I would have a healthy baby! As the due date came, it too passed! 2 weeks past my due date, and 3 days of mild labor that would not progress, I was finally medically induced into labor! The little guy had just hunkered down in there waiting for the "storm" to pass, and got himself so comfortable he forgot he was supposed to move out!
At last, there he was, a wrinkled, plump 8lb. 12oz. my biggest baby perfect in every way in spite of the rough ride beautiful son. The doctor said, "well, you've got a basketball team", his creative alternative to it's a boy! I'm glad I was part of the generation of mom's who still had the element of surprise in pregnancy, it added to the thrill of the "birthday". My sweet friend was there, she witnessed the miracle, and welcomed with me this tiny new person.
There are a few moments in life that are magic, the embodiment of everything sublime, blissful, the gift of a higher realm. That was one of those moments. I knew this child was meant. Meant to be my son, and I his Mother. Meant to take me to a life lived with a deeper appreciation for it. Meant to add value to our family in ways that show us we would not be as good together if he were not a part of us. Meant to bring joy, not just at that moment, but so many future moments that I had yet to even ponder. Meant to be a constant reminder to all who know him that kindness and thoughtfulness are real attainable human attributes, that are meant to be acted upon, not just fleeting ideas that sound good.
He has a reputation that precedes him now. His whole life he has given 100% of himself. As a child, he wore the soles of his shoes out in less than 2 months of hard little boy play! As an athlete, outperforming everyone average. As an employee, the dream of his employers. As an employer, always aware of good effort and quick to reward it. To all the people in his life, and the projects he undertakes, he gives that same 100%. He is committed and loyal, wishing to better the lives of those he loves, even more than his own.
August 24th 1984 he was given to me, to take to my home, to join with the other members of our family, for all the rest of our lives. That was a remarkable August day, the beginning of something new and beautiful, a day that forever changed my future, and the future of our family.
That was 26 years ago. Every day for 26 years I have said "thank you Lord, for this son, for how he came into the world, for who you created him to be, for putting him in my home, and in my family".
"Thank you Lord".
P.J.