Long Hollow

The Thing About Neighbors...

"To love our neighbors as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality." - John Locke

Dennis lived in Long Hollow first - years and years before anyone else thought it was appealing to live down a dirt road. He had the place all to himself, except for a few neighbors on the hills surrounding the hollow.

And then we showed up, bringing our three kids and two dogs out on the weekends to clear bits of the property, picnic and dream of the day we would live out here. Tom would rev up the backhoe and play like a little boy with a Tonka Truck.

Then the kids got older...busier...our visits were fewer and fewer...I'm sure Dennis secretly hoped we would be like all of the other property owners out here who never actually get around to building. We started wondering ourselves!

In the meantime others discovered the Hollow. Houses started going up, mostly on the surrounding hills. Just as we fell into the rapids of our own homebuilding, the first big neighbor vs. neighbor problem arose. It was a big one, about whether businesses were allowed out here and whether the Homeowner's Association carried any weight at all. It ultimately went to court.

We had our opinion on the issue, but were too busy trying to meet deadlines and pay bills to get involved. The downside was the demise of the Homeowner's Association and all deed restrictions. We're feeling the affects of that decision now...I think if it had gone the other way, we wouldn't have this crumbling wall of dirt on the end of our pond right now. No one could just buy property and do whatever popped into their heads out here...the deed restrictions protected the natural beauty of the hollow and everyone's investment from people who didn't spare a thought for anyone but themselves...who couldn't see beyond their own bit of land or how it was connected to the rest of the Hollow...the creek...our ponds...Lake Travis...and on and on...

Now Dennis told us this week that he's been having problems similar to ours...a neighbor who doesn't respect property lines. That's all he thought it was until a county inspector came out and discovered the neighbor had dug a pit for his personal "waste" which, when the rain ultimately hit the Hollow, overflowed into their pond and drifted merrily downstream to us. Yeah, thanks. Our little waterfall doesn't sound quite as pretty now.

But neighbors can be a good thing, too. For instance, take Dennis...Tom was out here working on the backhoe one weekend years ago, when we still lived in town. The ground was soft and the backhoe flipped. Thank goodness Tom wasn't hurt, but the backhoe had a busted tire and he couldn't drive it back home, so he walked down to Dennis' house and Dennis gave him a lift home (it was during those archaic pre-cell-phone days.)

It's because of another neighbor up the hill that we have trash service out here. And during that tragic fight between Charly and his brother Chewy soon after we moved in, the neighbor behind us heard my screams and cries and came through the woods to see what was wrong. He's the one that got them broken apart before they killed each other. If he hadn't come running, ready to help, I'm sure I wouldn't have had these last few years with Charly.

When our new neighbors downstream actually began building a house, we lamented not having this whole section of the Hollow to ourselves anymore and worried about what it would be like living so close to people again! But the truth is, it's been a joy. (And it's not just because they gave us a ping-pong table and a set of drums they didn't want anymore!)

We discovered we have many things in common...Andy is a contractor and likes to play cribbage. Reba is many things...gardener, cook, artist...but also a writer (you can read some of her writings on Dog Canyon.) And bless their hearts, they are peacemakers, trying to smooth out all of the feathers that keep getting ruffled in our little corner of the world. They are friends with everyone...very forgiving...you just have to admire that.

"To love our neighbors as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality." - John Locke

If only everyone else down here cared enough to understand that little nugget of truth...maybe we'd all truly be neighbors.

"Count your age by friends..."

After the outpouring of love and support over the past few days about Charly's death, I don't think I want to "count my age by friends"...I'd be really, really old! I know there will be days when the Charly memories hit me hard...I know there will be tears...but right now God has answered prayers and I feel a warm, fuzzy cushion all around me. I feel blessed because I had weeks to prepare myself for Charly's death and shower him in love and attention beforehand and I feel blessed because of all the friends who have stepped up with words of comfort.

I'm afraid if I counted my age by friends...oh, what the heck - I would just look really good for my age because it would be way over 50, that's for sure!

"Count your age by friends, count your life by smiles." - Author Unknown

This was the complete quote that my friend Stacy posted as her Facebook status this evening. It resonated with me...and not just because of the support we've received about Charly. I realized what a blessing Facebook has been in my life.

If my kids read my blog, they would roll their eyes right now. They still believe "old" people like me shouldn't be on Facebook. But over the last few months I have gotten to know people in a way you just don't have time for otherwise...both family and friends...people from past jobs and from around town that I don't bump into anymore...people from high school that I regret I didn't really know back then. (I've heard people say "If I wasn't friends with them in high school, why would I want to be friends with them now?" Well, I feel it's better late than never. For the most part, we've gotten over our angst and insecurities - we've grown up and can be our true selves now. And let me tell you...I went to school with some amazing people!)

One of the most rewarding aspects of Facebook has been reconnecting with people who were huge parts of my life and then, somehow, they just slipped away. How does this happen? Why do we let it happen?

One of those friends is Don. We became friends through church in junior high...briefly girlfriend/boyfriend but mostly brother/sister. We spent hours on the phone. We were best friends. Then we went separate ways...

But through Facebook and mutual friends we've become friends again. No...brother and sister again. I haven't seen him in person, but that doesn't matter. The years have been brushed away. (I admit, this is still the way I picture him, despite the fact that he's a grandpa now...this was taken on a church choir trip in 8th grade...)

It's a little bit of a risk when you come across a name from your past - will they remember me? If they do, what do they remember? Was I nice to them the last time we spoke? But being fifty is very liberating. I'm willing to take a chance and assume they remember me, and that they are as eager as I am to reconnect, and they'll forgive me for any past transgressions. If they're not, so be it. At least I tried.

Considering all of that, I have been blessed this week. Even as I mourned Charly, God put these other people in my path, people from my childhood...people I think of every time we drive down Washington to my parents' house. We turn onto Washington from Beltway...that's Vickie's house. And there on the corner of my block - that's where Guy and Gary lived...and the other corner - that's where Ricky lived.

I stumbled upon Gary first, on a page created for Deepwater people like me. He had posted something on there, and with his unusual last name, I knew it had to be him. Still, he was older than me...would he remember me? He did.

Then I saw Vickie's name...and then Ricky's. I remember that time we were dropped off at the Capitan theater...me, Vickie and Ricky (they're cousins)...and she was put in charge of us (she was probably 8, Ricky was 6, and I was 5...maybe) and she decided instead of watching the movie, we should walk to her aunt's house a couple of miles away through the heart and across many busy streets of Pasadena. Let me vouch for her...she got us across those streets and to her aunt's house safe and sound!

Today I "talked" to both Vickie and Ricky for the first time in close to 40 years, and it felt as natural as if we had shared that adventure yesterday.

Ricky...he was my first friend outside of my family...part of my earliest memories. We spent almost every day together for the first ten years of my life. And then we parted. I don't remember the last time I talked to him. How does that happen, that you are so close to a person, practically family, and then POOF! they're gone?

I guess you get to a certain point in your life when you grow apart. The connection you had never goes away...you remember the person, remember the times you shared...but before Facebook came along, chances were you would never see that person again - they would stay in your heart as memories, but that was it. In that way, Facebook is a pathway for miracles. And I'm so grateful for the miracles that have come my way this past year.

"It's no good trying to keep up old friendships. It's painful for both sides. The fact is, one grows out of people, and the only thing is to face it." - W. Somerset Maugham

I feel sorry for Maugham...I guess he didn't live long enough to see that you can grow back into people. I'm so grateful I have. But then, he didn't have Facebook. I'm so grateful I do.

(me and Ricky in his back yard...circa 1963...my house was the brown one two doors down, where the laundry is hanging out to dry...)

 

 

Charly Dog

Charly stopped eating last night. This morning he was too weak to go for a walk...even though Tom had the day off and would be joining us. So I stayed behind and petted him until Tom and Max returned, not wanting him to be alone.

I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. I had hoped he would go peacefully in his sleep before he began to suffer more than just the aches and pains of old age. But life can be sweet...and it can be sour...and there are times we don't get what we want. Given the choice of him suffering for days  and dying while we were at work,(and it was obvious he was beginning to suffer), or drifting off to join his brother Chewy and his "Mama" Maggie while Tom and I hugged him and whispered how much we loved him...well, it was still a tough decision to make, but we chose being there with him.

So we made the appointment...the latest one possible. Tom spent his day off being close to Charly - much like I did on my day off last week. This afternoon Charly actually rallied for a walk, and I began to have doubts about our decision, until I watched him trying to make his way down the road, so painfully slow that I ached for him.

Back home I brushed him and brushed him...and then it was time.

It was over so quickly - there had only been a few strands of life left in him, but he was hanging on tight to those and I know it was because he was such an awesome dog, so bound to his duty of taking care of us that he couldn't, he wouldn't, let go, no matter what.

"A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself." - Josh Billings

We buried him near Chewy's grave and marked it with a beautiful iron cross I had bought with the intention of placing it near the other pets' graves. I'm grateful for my procrastinating ways at times. 

It was dark before we finished piling rocks on top of the dirt, to protect him from the grave-robbing varmints out there, and wandered back up to the house to let Max out of the laundry room. He promptly tucked his tail, laid down his ears and slunk into the dog house. Any other time, he would have gone looking for Charly. He knew.

I'm going to miss Charly, especially tomorrow morning. We've been walking together almost every morning for over six years. The walks before that don't count - they were leash-walks. Now we walked as friends connected by love and companionship, not leashes. I dread walking out in the morning and not seeing his big brown eyes looking up at me and that white tail wagging, hopeful.

Yeah, I'm going to miss him. Damn, he was a good dog.

In one of C.S. Lewis' books about Narnia - "The Last Battle", I think - he offers his idea of what heaven will be like - a bucolic place with green fields, lots of trees, clear streams...and animals or pets that have passed from this life. That image has become my own picture of heaven and in my mind now, I can see Charly, filled out like a butterball like he used to be, his ears flopping as he runs through the grass, playing with Chewy...

That helps a little. But I'm still going to miss my Charly.

Charly's baby pics...with brother Chewy...with "Mama" Maggie...

Last pictures taken, Thanksgiving weekend, with the boys...

Run and play in peace, Charly Dog.

Fading Away

"...I want to get leaner and meaner, sharp-edged & earth-colored, till I fade away from pure joy."

This is part of a verse written on a plaque that a friend gave me a few years ago. I thought of these words as I strolled beside Charly this morning on our walk.

Yes, he's still scrambling up to go on our walks. He's weak...we stopped for breaks a few times on the way to the bend this morning, and each time I offered to go back home, but he would just stand for a few minutes (and I'd rub his ears and belly) then head off again, determined to go all the way.

But the verse came to mind because he is just fading away, right before our eyes. He's getting leaner and more sharp-edged (as in bony) each day, since he's barely eating. And if "meaner" indicates a strong, determined will...synonymous with "stubborn"...then he's getting meaner every day, too.

He has always been earth-colored...the same whites, tans and yellows of our caliche road...and joyful, especially on our walks - sniffing the breeze, following the trail of a rabbit or deer, or running down the road with Max. Watching him brings me joy.

He's an outside dog. A country dog. We brought him in last night and probably will again tonight because of the cold, but for his sake, I hope when the time comes for him to fade completely away, he's outside on his bed, with the sound of the birds and the creek in his ears, the smell of Max, Frankie and the critters of the woods nearby, and the knowledge that he's done a good job in his sweet heart.

Love justice, you who judge the Earth...

...think of the Lord in goodness and seek Him in integrity of heart. (Wisdom 1:1)

Tom has been sleeping in starts and stops in between hours of lying in bed, wide awake. Last week he spent hours on a jury faced with a child abuse case - he was inundated with the kind of details that sink into your soul and aren't easy to shake...the kind that wake you up at night wondering if there was anything else you could do...wondering how you and another person can look at the same details and come away with polar opposite impressions and opinions.

They saw the X-ray of this two-year-old's femur, snapped completely apart - an 'X' where an 'l' should be. They watched the video of the little boy screaming in his sleep, swinging his arms to fend off attackers...heard the testimony of the foster parents describing a child so filled with fear he wouldn't eat.

It made Tom wince, thinking of the pain the baby endured when, as punishment for not walking on his broken leg, his diaper was ripped off and he was spanked so hard a handprint remained two hours later. Tom has had enough broken bones to know the slightest movement is excruciatingly painful.

They listened as the defendant changed his story, time after time, as evidence was presented that exposed his lies...he went all the way from total denial ("he fell out of the child's rocker when I was in the other room...") to admitting he grabbed the baby by the arm and leg and then twisted, afterward tossing him onto the bed so hard his face hit the wall and bloodied his nose.

The admissions came begrudgingly, only after evidence and other testimony contrary to his forced him out on the ledge, and yet many jurors believed him when he said it was just an accident and he didn't know it would hurt the baby and that he loved him as his own..."I love kids...I hope to have children of my own one day...I've been taking parenting classes..."

"He's been lying about everything! How can you believe this?" Tom asked one of the other jurors.

"Because now he's under oath!" 

(I envy that juror their faith in human beings...their belief that being under oath works as a truth serum and that everyone honors their 'word'.)

And Tom couldn't talk about it outside of the courtroom. He talked to God, praying for wisdom and guidance, but he couldn't tell me what was tearing him up - he had to hold it all inside, driving the images and frustration deeper.

Because the baby was in a body cast for four months, the defendant was found guilty of the most serious charge possible and could have been sentenced to 99 years. Because of his four previous felonies, the minimum sentence was 15 years. To Tom, after seeing and hearing the evidence and testimonies, that wasn't even enough - he felt it was a disservice to the pain and trauma the baby had suffered, and he worried about the man being around other children.

To his dismay, many on the jury thought 15 years was too much.

In the end, after holding out for four hours, Tom agreed to the minimum sentence so they could go home. But he told the other jurors that when he left, he would know in his heart he tried his best to do the right thing by this little baby who had to spend four months in a body cast....who was spanked violently after having his leg broken by a man who couldn't control his rage.

Yes, there are underlying social problems that we all need to be concerned about - poverty, unemployment, overcrowded jails, rehabilitation programs that fail - but that doesn't mean a person shouldn't be penalized for their crimes. Each of us is responsible for our actions. Social issues can't be blamed for everything - there are plenty of people who are poor and unemployed who are also compassionate and ethical; there are plenty of people who are rich and "successful" who don't think twice about lying to save their skin or get a little further ahead.

This man had been abused by his own father (he said) and yet he took these steps to continue the cycle. I pray this link is broken - I pray the little boy is placed with a loving family...has a real man for a role model - one who is filled with compassion and love rather than selfishness and pride and violence.

I pray the same thing for the defendant as well. Obviously he needs a good role model, too. I pray it's not too late for either of them.

And I pray that Tom is able to heal from the past week, that by talking about it and writing about it, he's able to exorcise the heartache and frustration, for his own sake, even though I know he will never forget that baby.

Just Me and Stoney, Dusting and Thinking

I think Kendall's graduation cap and braided ropes hadn't been touched since she placed them on that chest right after the ceremony last June. I untangled the cords, hung them on a hook, and propped her cap up on her dresser. Stoney LaRue's voice floated in from the livingroom speakers..."May God bless you and keep you always, may your wishes all come true. May you always do for others and let others do for you. May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung. May you stay forever young, forever young, forever young..."

I dusted the wooden souvenir box from our trip to Colorado...the colorful bottles collected at so many garage sales...Gumby and Pokey...whole sanddollars...dried flowers...jewelry boxes...stuffed animals...candles...photos...

"...may you stay forever young, forever young, forever young..."

I was grateful for the rain today - not just because we needed it, but because it kept me focused inside, where I needed to be, tackling my to-do lists. I didn't accomplish as much as I wanted to (does anyone ever?) but I made a pretty big dent...getting Kendall's room ready for Tom's parents, who arrive tomorrow for Thanksgiving at our house and a grandson's wedding in San Antonio. 

It'll only be the second time since I met Tom that he has spent Thanksgiving with his parents. It'll be the first that I haven't been with mine. That's tough. I know I'll be "homesick" that day, but happy for Tom that he gets to be with his family. Mine live so close that I often take it for granted how often I get to see them.

Anyway...I spent the morning in Kendall's room surrounded by the wide pastel stripes I helped her paint...colors of other years gone by. That was when a day, a week, a year was forever to her...she couldn't imagine how quickly these years would fly. But I knew, even as I helped tape straight lines to keep the blues, greens and pinks separate, that this day was just around the corner...this day when that room wasn't where she lived - it was just a place to store stuff she no longer needed every day but wasn't ready to get rid of or box up. Not yet.

But I know even that day is coming...I know from experience with Tommy and Daniel, that gradually the room will seem larger...posters, dressers, clothes, and even furniture will disappear.

 "...may you stay forever young, forever young, forever young..."

It was a nice way to spend a morning...a reflective one...picking up a jewelry box, a candle, a framed picture, a souvenir...gently wiping the dust off of it as I remember the age, the occasion, the moods surrounding each one. I tried to keep most of it the way she had it, with a few little changes on the bedside table, just to leave space for Tom's parents' things. I want her to feel it's still her room (even though we're not letting her sleep in there Thanksgiving weekend!)...I don't want to rush her out of the house or take it upon myself to decide what she needs to keep and what she needs to get rid of. As long as she wants it, it will be her room, filled with her stuff. I'll leave the stripes and posters on the wall, the parade of mini-rubber duckies on the shelf in her shower. I'll leave it this way until the walls are bare and the closet is empty...until she has moved on. But even then...even after the stripes are gone and her things don't fill the room...in my mind it will always be Kendall's room.

"...May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young..."

Listen to Stoney himself singing it here.

 

 

24 Hours Later...

There are more truths in 24 hours of a [person's] life than in all the philosophies. - Raoul Vaneigem

This struck a chord in me when I read it today. After a quick Googling and Wiki-read of Raoul, I'm not sure I would agree with him on much else, but on this we agree...what a difference 24 hours can make!

Yesterday morning, I felt...off...out of sync...faded. I had slipped out of myself and couldn't figure out why, or how to climb back in.

By yesterday evening, I felt better, but there were still a few bits of me that weren't quite into place. 

This morning, I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that all my pieces had clicked back together. I knew it when I saw the dawn glowing red through the library window, when I noticed the brilliant blue of the sky above me on our walk. Yesterday there were no colors. 

What happened in those 24 hours?

First, I faced the demons head-on...turned a light on them so they couldn't hide inside, wallowing around and getting bigger than they really were. I wrote about it (which always helps me sort things out and see them from a different perspective) and let others know about it. That way their prayers joined my own. Their good wishes helped move all the pieces of me back together again. They expressed concern, offered help, gave encouragement.

I tried to identify the nasty worries that had burrowed into my head resulting in a bad case of emotional vertigo. One by one I evicted those that I could do nothing about (beyond praying) and acted upon those that I could. It turned out finishing the library was a big hairy worry, so I skipped my workout and writing and got busy in there. It's not quite finished, but it's way beyond the halfway mark. After several trips up and down the stairs carrying armloads of books, I have the shelves filled with books about Texas, the Civil War and American history...the books I need for MY book. I have my maps pinned to the wall - the one of Texas in 1870 and the birds-eye view of Austin in 1900.  I moved the Windberg print of an old Texas barn at dawn to the wall above the computer, to look at while I write the murder scene. And even though they have nothing to do with the book, I finally hung my Great-Uncle Howard's art on the wall above the desk - amazingly detailed miniature storefronts. They were displaced by a bookshelf in the livingroom over a year ago and have just been sitting on the windowsill, neglected...a burr under my skin every time I looked at them.

But before I tackled the library, the sunset caught my eye. I headed outside and watched it from the porch swing, where I could talk to Max, Charly and Frankie. (Tom has jury duty this week, so he doesn't get home until after dark.) Charly glanced up at me a couple of times then, sighing, climbed out of his comfortable bed and over to me so I could pet him. Dogs just know, don't they?

I scratched his ears a little bit, then grabbed the brush from the windowsill and gently brushed his bony body. I was afraid it would hurt him, but he loved it. Finally he drifted off to get a drink and I brushed Max (he was still curled up on his bed.) I hit all the right spots - his leg was going good. Charly wandered back and I brushed him some more.

They say the best way to forget your blues is to do something for someone else, and it's true. Just brushing those puppies was a salve on my psyche...I think after all the prayer and good wishes, it was the final push that clicked me back together. I brushed them again tonight - it's my new evening routine.

Knowing I am blessed, and with so much tragedy in the world, so many people with real cause to be walking in the shadows, it's very annoying to find myself there, with no grounds to be sad. Thanks to everyone who sent me a note, whispered a prayer or in some other way helped me get back in the sunshine. I like it much better here.

Welcome to my 'library' ...Uncle Howard's amazing art...my books...a birds-eye view of Austin in 1900...

A Short Walk in the Shadows

On clear days, the morning sunshine spills and splashes into the hollow, but there are places it doesn't reach...spots where the road hugs tight to a steep side of a hill and down along the creek and other places in the woods where the sunlight can't pass through the leaves on the oak trees.

There are days when I feel like I'm standing in one of those spots...standing in a shadow, unable to feel the warmth of the sun. Today is one of those days.

I'm not worried. It hasn't happened in a while, but it happens and I know it will pass. I know even if can't feel the light in my heart, it's close and it will return. I read somewhere that even Mother Teresa experienced days like this.

Shadows are cast by objects blocking the light, and I'm trying to figure out what it is that's blocking the light and casting this shadow around me. I have no reason to be sad or depressed. Not directly. My family is relatively healthy; we are blessed with jobs, food, shelter, clothes; we get to live in this beautiful place that I love. I have family and friends who love me. It makes me ashamed to feel this way! Lord, how would I deal with a real problem?

Perhaps it's because the holidays are coming up...I have big plans of being organized and on time this year with my decorating, shopping and cards...I really want to go see the Trail of Lights in Zilker Park (or whatever they're calling it this year) and experience the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar (I've never been!)...but without forfeiting time for reflection and activities focusing on Christ's birth...the "reason for the season."

How am I going to do that?  We're preparing for Thanksgiving right now...only the second time in my home and the first time with Tom's family (part of his family, anyway...there will only be about 15 of us, altogether, not 50 or 60!) There's so much to do and so little time left in the day to do it...in a whole weekend and and one evening, we've barely made a dent in it and my to-do lists are multiplying like rabbits. I can't even think about Christmas yet. But I realize to get it done, something (most likely my writing and work-outs...my sanity-savers) will have to go by the wayside for a while.

But it will be a fabulous weekend, even if we don't get everything done...first Thanksgiving, then a wedding in San Antonio. But now it looks like there might also be one of my "classmates get-togethers" being planned in Austin that weekend on the same day as the wedding. I'll have to miss it. Perhaps that's part of the shadow...

Or maybe it's because Charly is skin and bones but we can't get him to eat. Well, we can't get him to eat his food, anyway. If Max drops some of his on the deck, Charly's there in a heartbeat to snatch it up. We thought maybe his food was too hard and crunchy (ignoring the fact that he has no problem eating his milkbone treats!) so I changed the ratio of canned food and kibble; 1/3 canned became 1/3 kibble. Ah, that did it...for one feeding or two. Then he turned his nose up at it again. Tom broke down and just fed him Max's food (the special food that costs and arm and a leg!) because, hey, he's old and skinny! Give him what he likes! It worked...until this morning. He ate about a third of his then went scavenging around Max's bowl. ("Charly! It's the same stuff!!")

Maybe I just need a kid fix. It's been several weeks since I've seen any of them, hasn't it? And then it wasn't for very long. Not long enough. Thank the Lord for cell phones and email...I've talked to all of them in snatches within the last few days...but it's just not the same as seeing their faces, hearing their voices, feeling their hugs. 

Yes, maybe that's it. At the thought of my kids, my heart is swelling up and tears are peeking out of my eyes. They will all be here for Thanksgiving, hallelujah! In just a couple of weeks, it will be loud and crazy and I will love it...even as I long to slip off somewhere quiet.

Perhaps it's all of these things. Perhaps it's something I just haven't recognized yet. Perhaps it's hormones and I just need a good cry.

Whatever it is, I know it will pass. I know soon I'll step back into the sunlight...I know it's there, just around the corner...

In times of dryness and desolation, we must be patient, and wait with resignation the return of consolation, putting our trust in the goodness of God. We must animate ourselves by the thought that God is always with us, that he only allows this trial for our greater good, and that we have not necessarily lost his grace because we have lost the taste and feelings of it. - St. Ignatius of Loyola

How'd they know?

I started dumping my thoughts and memories on paper when I was 8 years old and continued for years, on through high school, mostly in those little 5 year diaries with the flimsy locks. I ignored the boundary lines that were supposed to separate yearly entries...I sometimes used up several pages for one day. Sadly, when I moved out of my parents' home, I threw them away. Why? Why? Why?

I would love to go back and read the thoughts and perspectives of my younger self. But I was too honest - I wrote totally for myself with no intentions of anyone else ever reading what I scribbled. When I started packing up my belongings, preparing to move into my first apartment, I feared my boyfriend at the time would see them and read them. It seems crazy to me now that I worried about it...or that, if I was that worried, I couldn't come up with a creative solution. Geez!

I stopped writing for years. But when I met Tom, I felt compelled to write my feelings down again, and have continued to do so for the past twenty-eight years...first in pretty hard-backed journals, later in the kids left-over spiral notebooks. I started journals for each of the kids, too. Yes...for awhile I was keeping up with four journals. (Let me tell you...it's great therapy for a parent... "You were such a little fart today! What got into you?"..."One day you'll understand why we were upset when you didn't call and let us know where you were. We were so worried!"..."Today you gave me the sweetest hug and kiss...")

Anyway, as the kids got older, it got harder and harder to keep up with the journals. Writing had become a stress-reliever for me, and when I don't write...well, I get stressed. I can feel something building up inside of me. I get grumpy (Tom might call it something else...)

And then there were the letters. I used to write dozens of letters every week - cousins, grandmothers, friends. I was so good about making copies of pictures for everyone. What happened?

Blogging has been a way to take care of all of these things...sharing our current events and my feelings about them, all at the same time! But it was scary at first - what would people think? Would anyone read it?

I write for myself, but at the same time, I feel, when I'm blogging, that I'm talking to a friend, sharing what's on my mind. When I don't get any reactions at all, I start to wonder if what I'm writing is any good...does anyone understand it? Does anyone connect with what I'm saying? Is anyone even reading it?

And then someone will send me a message...like this one yesterday:"...I just wanted to tell you that you write beautifully and really need to think about doing it for a living..." or today: "Barb, I really enjoy your writing..." and "Your blog is indeed very inspiring Barb...keep up the great work." Just when my determination drops, just when I need it the most, it never fails that someone tells me they are reading my words...they enjoy my words.

Who knows if I'll ever make any significant money with my writing? I would love to, of course, but the main reason I write is to get my thoughts down on paper...to play with words...and perhaps inspire, entertain, or just connect with other people. When I get comments like these, it makes me feel like I'm not totally wasting my time...I'm not just talking to a wall (or a computer screen)...that someone out there was actually inspired, entertained, or somehow felt a connection to me, enough to let me know it. That's enough to get through a few more days, weeks, pages...

Thank you for taking the time to let me know.

"If storytelling has a positive function it's to put us in touch with other people's lives, to help us connect and draw strength or knowledge from people we'll never meet, to help us see beyond our own experience." - John Sayles Thinking in Pictures

Lesson #78

In one of my earliest memories, I'm lying in bed with my mother perched beside me...teaching me..."Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep..."

A few years later, she decides I'm old enough for a little more..."Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..."

The past couple of weeks I've been thinking a lot about my faith journey - what I believe and don't believe and why - so these memories have been playing over and over in my head.

Someone recently expressed the theory to me that if no one had told me about religion, I would never have developed the concept of mass faith. Maybe that's true...(maybe if no one had told him about atheism, he would never have developed the concept that belief in God is delusional or irrational.)

Today is my mother's birthday. Last year, I came up with a list of 77 things that she had taught me, so today I'm adding another to that list. It's probably the most important thing she taught me...something I guess I've always taken for granted until this friend pointed it out to me...

My mother taught me that God is. She didn't tell me about 'religion'...she introduced me to Jesus. The nitpicky differences between Christians...those weren't that important. By her example, she taught me that what was important was learning to talk to him; to listen; to try to follow his will for my life; to lean on him; to ask forgiveness; to love and respect others no matter what they believed, to look for commonalities, but to hold on to my faith, even when it's hard.

It has been hard at times. She didn't force her beliefs on me, didn't try to censor me from beliefs that were different from hers, but left me to form my own. My path has gone up and down and I've fallen off a few times, but as she told me one time, if you've never had something, you don't know what it is you're missing later or where to find it. You just know there's a void inside of you.

I was blessed with a mother who had already experienced more than her share of trials, tribulations, and disappointments, but through them had learned to count her blessings, and depend more on God's strength rather than turn away from him or blame him...and because she loved us, she shared that faith with us.

Thank you, Mama! I hope you have a wonderful birthday! I love you!

Minutes Tucked Away

Frankie pecked at the door this morning - "where the heck are you?" - pulling me away from my writing and out for our morning walk, later than normal. I was entangled with words and story, reluctant to stop, unaware of the time.

The sun was already up above the hill, the hollow full of sunshine. We walked through stripes of shadow and light, cool and warm. Dew glistened on the grasses and Frankie's tummy feathers grew damp as he scurried through the clumps, eating the bugs off the wet blades like I would clean the last bits of fudgesicle off the stick. Max hurried ahead of us to the bend - the past few days he has disappeared somewhere, off on an adventure, running full speed to catch up with us before we get back to the house.

For the most part, Charly plods along beside me. He stumbles every now and then, he wobbles when he lifts his leg to pee (but he lifts it!), and his bark has become more of a cough. His sense of smell is still keen, though - this morning he followed a trail into the woods and, on the way back home, stopped for several minutes to thoroughly investigate some weeds on the edge of the road.

This is our routine. I tuck these scenes away with all the others, memories that I hope bring me peace when the morning comes - and I know it's not far away - that Charly isn't by my side for our walk.

Some dear friends lost one of their much-loved dogs this week. They are remembering him, remembering the routines, feeling the loss of his presence, but grateful there are so many times to remember...times that keep him alive in their hearts. I think of them and their loss and I'm treasuring these minutes I have with Charly even more than before.

Grieve not,
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you...
I loved you so -
'twas Heaven here with you.

--Isla Paschal Richardson

 Rest in peace, Boonie Man.

 

 

Writing...and not writing

I expected a stormy afternoon. Instead, blues skies and a brisk wind greeted me when I stepped outside after work...invigorating weather that makes you want to forget about to-do lists and go hiking in the woods. So that's what I did when I got home - I joined Tom and the boys for a walk down to the damn dam (another several tons of dirt have collapsed into our pond and a big chunk is breaking away, ready to fall.)

Next, we headed across our own dam and down to our little pond and waterfall. I love watching the water rush over the rock ledge into the pool...love the rushing, cleansing sound of it. We spent some time down there, peering downstream at the overgrown brush. I could tell Tom's brain-wheels were turning -  he has decided to focus on the creek, clear out the brush, build some little paths so we can enjoy that part of our property, rather than the big pond, to take our eyes and minds off of the damn dam.

We wandered back to the house, ate dinner, cleaned up the kitchen. He headed up to work on his car and then down to exercise and watch television. I started some laundry then headed to the computer to find information for a new post on our Jobs4Autism  website, check emails and catch up on Facebook. I took a break to watch the Office, move laundry around, load the dishwasher and now here I am again, at 9pm trying to toss my loose thoughts onto this blog so I can work on my book. About the time I finally get going on it and start losing myself in the story, bedtime taps me on the shoulder. A few years ago I would have ignored it and kept writing, but that's getting harder and harder to do the older I get.

I know, I know....there are a few ways I could squeeze in more time for writing. Perhaps ignore Facebook or skip The Office. But really...I don't watch much television to begin with, and keeping in touch with people on Facebook has been a real blessing. And my blog not only clears my head and serves as warm-up writing, but it's therapeutic. Ain't touching that!

Well, I'll just keep chipping away in 30 to 40 minute increments every night and hope for more time down the road. Eventually, a book will emerge.

It helps that I have friends who believe in my writing. My friend Rae gave me this pencil box and it sits on my desk in front of me as I write...a reminder (thank you, sweet Rae!)

Spirits Bound by Timeless Love and Sweetness

This past weekend - a glorious Texas-style autumn weekend of golden sunshine, blue skies, vivid sunsets and star-filled nights - my house was filled with laughter and voices that have kept me company off and on for more than 30 years...some for more than 40...bringing back memories of those first slumber parties when we ate Doritos, danced, wrapped houses, and told scary stories. Who would have guessed we'd still be giggling together after all these years?

"Friendship is that virtue by which spirits are bound by timeless love and sweetness and out of many are made one." (St. Aelred of Rievaulx wrote that in the 12th century)

I wonder if St. Aelred was talking about friendships he'd had since childhood? I love the image of this quote...

"...timeless...": we're averaging 40 years of friendship
"...love and sweetness...": we're sweeter to each other for sure...no more teenage high drama...and we've become blatantly affectionate. Lots and lots of hugs and kisses and "love you"s whenever we're together.
"...out of many are made one...": we continue to draw closer and closer to one another, like one huge family or one entity, held together by shared memories (and adding to them all the time) and a name: Deer Park.

This time we gathered to celebrate my friend Ann's 51st birthday (click here to read my tribute to Ann written in honor of her 50th birthday last year.)

She arrived from Missouri Friday afternoon. We relaxed and talked a little, then zipped off with Tom to meet Darla, her daughter, Leslie and Clive at the Steiner Ranch Steakhouse, the perfect spot to watch the sunset, listen to music, dance and talk. We lucked out - there was a fabulous band performing that night: Suede. What a flashback to the '70's and '80's! The dancefloor was packed with fans, but we elbowed our way in and danced along with them, transported back to our Uncle Sam's Disco days. What a great surprise to recognize a familiar face on the dancefloor - Audrey, another (younger) Deer Park girl-turned-Austinite that I really only met this summer through another friend, Shari. The world gets smaller and smaller every day, doesn't it?  (me with Ann...me with Audrey)

 

Saturday morning Ann and I enjoyed playing catch-up on the back porch, listening to the rush of the little waterfall tumbling into the pond below us and watching Frankie the guinea dance with his reflection in the French doors. It had been years since we'd had alone time like this!

Soon the other girls rolled in from Deer Park, Temple and Round Rock...Darla, Donna, Rae, Patti and Lisa (an adopted Deer Park girl - she married into us.) Tom visited a little then hit the road in the Suzuki to enjoy some solitude, camping out near the lake. The girls and I ate, drank, hiked, laughed, took lots and lots pictures and then scrambled to get ready to head into Austin to see Jimmy LeFave at Threadgill's. (the girls by my little pond)

What Ann didn't know was that Annie K., another dear friend, had driven in from Colorado just to celebrate Ann's birthday and would be meeting us there. It's hard to believe, but none of us slipped up and gave it away and she was truly surprised. I'm sure that was the best birthday gift she received. (the two Anns together again)

A few more Deer Park-ians met us at Threadgill's - Vickie, Larry, Roy, Ann's sister Becky and her husband Steve. It was an outdoor concert and we hovered near the back so we could talk and dance while we listened to Jimmy. (our group...Jimmy LeFave) 

This was one of those weekends when I didn't want to waste a single minute. Ann and I stayed up until almost 3am talking in bed (or was it almost 4am? My eyes and memory aren't what they used to be.) The next morning we were up before anyone else, watching the morning sunlight ease its way down into the hollow. 

Ann was the first to leave - she had to catch a flight to Oregon - but the rest of us dragged the weekend out as long as we could, meeting other friends for lunch in Austin. It was hard to finally say goodbye, but it helped knowing there will be a "next time" before very long. The older we get, the more we realize what a precious gift we have in our friendship - some say it's an anomaly, this friendship with former high school classmates that continues to grow larger and larger like a rubber band ball. Many people don't understand how we can still be friends after all these years - or why we would even want to be - considering there have been huge gaps in our friendships.

I don't really understand it myself, but I think that just makes it even more wondrous to me. And to be honest, I'd rather spend time celebrating these friendships than analyzing them...when's the next get-together?

"It doesn't have to be somber to be sacred." (David J. Wolpe) 

 

My List

I just stumbled through the door, home after an afternoon of shopping with Kendall...after breakfast and lunch with precious friends...after a night of just 5 hours of sleep because I wanted to enjoy every minute I had with these 'girls' of my youth who gathered at my house for the weekend to celebrate Ann's birthday.

My eyes were getting very, very heavy and I was chewing gum, singing with the radio, and praying fervently that I'd make it home without falling asleep at the wheel. Flipping through the stations, I came across "My List" by Toby Keith. (It might be an old song, but it's new to me.) The lyrics really hit me - if you switch the genders, the message seems so appropriate for me, the "To-Do List Maker."

If it's new to you, too, I recommend it (click here for the video.) Now I'm going to ignore everything that I should do around here and, upon my friends' advice, go soak in the neglected jacuzzi tub for awhile before bed. I'll think about the wonderful weekend and give thanks for these lifelong friendships...

Under an old brass paperweight is my list of things to do today
Go to the bank and the hardware store, put a new lock on the cellar door
I cross 'em off as I get 'em done but when the sun is set
There's still more than a few things left I haven't got to yet

Go for a walk, say a little prayer
Take a deep breath of mountain air
Put on my glove and play some catch
It's time that I make time for that
Wade the shore and cast a line
Look up a long lost friend of mine
Sit on the porch and give my girl a kiss
Start livin', that's the next thing on my list

Wouldn't change the course of fate but cuttin' the grass just had to wait
'Cause I've got more important things like pushin' my kid on the backyard swing
I won't break my back for a million bucks I can't take to my grave
So why put off for tomorrow what I could get done today

Like go for a walk, say a little prayer
Take a deep breath of mountain air
Put on my glove and play some catch
It's time that I make time for that
Wade the shore and cast a line
Look up a long lost friend of mine
Sit on the porch and give my girl a kiss
Start livin', that's the next thing on my list

Raise a little hell, laugh 'til it hurts
Put an extra five in the plate at church
Call up my folks just to chat
It's time that I make time for that
Stay up late, then oversleep
Show her what she means to me
Catch up on all the things I've always missed
Just start livin', that's the next thing on my list

Under an old brass paperweight
Is my list of things to do today

A Dam Update: Is it tacky to say "I told you so"?

Before I get into the dam update, I have to say this has been an absolutely beautiful, yet very prayerful, day.

It rained all night, but when it came time to walk the critters, the dark clouds were packing up and blue sky was peeking through. Before too long, the sun had taken charge of the sky...the cooler temperatures had remained...and it was as close to perfect as you can get on earth.

When I got home from work this afternoon, the sound of a roaring creek greeted my ears, Tom was grilling T-Bones (on sale at Randall's right now!), and Frankie left me a feather on the doorstep after he inspected the front bathroom.

But in the meantime, I had found out that my Uncle Bobby was having surgery for prostate cancer today and also that Sherrie, a high school classmate of mine, had passed away earlier this week. The funeral will be Saturday, a day when I'll be helping another classmate celebrate her 51st birthday.

 "A little too ironic, don't you think?" But I guess life's just that way...a balancing act...storm clouds and sunshine...beauty and destruction...life and death.

Okay, back to the dam...the good news is we have a full pond and a rushing waterfall and creek once again. (Didn't I say it was feast or famine around here?) The bad news is, we were right - at least a little bit, anyway - a portion of the dam collapsed into our pond. But for some reason being right doesn't feel so good this time...

I wonder how many tons of dirt washed into our pond?

Tom scoping it out with Max and Frankie...

Good news...the waterfall is back...my favorite spot on our land...

Procrastinator's Creed

I just hung up from talking to Tommy, my oldest that lives and works near Dallas. I rarely get to see him or talk to him. He's never been much of a phone-talker, but now, as a transportation broker, he has to spend hours on the phone at work. So I hesitate to call him - I know the last thing he wants to do when he gets home is talk on the phone...to his mother...but I had a question for him about an upcoming family wedding. He ended up talking quite a bit, telling me about work...his weekend...his upcoming plans.

I had other things I planned to do before heading to bed, but cleared them from my mind, reminding myself that a phone conversation with Tommy doesn't come around very often.

This little verse I first heard when he was a baby keeps running through my head. I think it still applies...

Cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow, for...<insert one of the following or make up your own>

 

...<babies grow up>
 ...<grown sons don't talk on the phone very often>
 ...<college kids don't like to come home>
 ...<parents grow older>
 ...<friends/family live out of town and we hardly get to see them>
 ...<we've gotten too busy and haven't seen our local friends in a long time>

 

...we've learned to our sorrow. So settle down cobwebs, dust go to sleep. I'm...

 

...<rocking my baby>
...<talking to my grown son>
...<spending time with my college kids>
...<visiting my parents>
...<getting together with out-of-town friends/family>
...<getting together with local friends>

 

and babies...grown sons...college kids...parents...friends...family don't keep.

 

 

 

Lucky 21 (I Hope)

I've been traveling back in time via memories today, helped along by dusty baby books and photo albums. It's Daniel's 21st birthday.

I'll see him in person tomorrow night. Tom and I will head downtown and take him out to eat. I'll also surprise him with the not-so-healthy "fruit" of last night's labor - hours of my labor - one of his favorite treats...Cyclops Cookies. (He doesn't read my blog very often, so I'm not worried about spoiling the surprise. And he'll enjoy them just as much even if they aren't a surprise!)

Tonight I'm flipping through pages, seeing him change before my eyes in minutes - changes a mother doesn't really notice until it's time to shop for new shoes and you realize their body has grown with their feet, and that somehow, suddenly, they're looking down at you instead of up.

I wonder if I'll notice any changes tomorrow night?  It's been a couple of weeks since I've seen him.

Probably not. Changes at this age are mostly inside, not easily noticed by parents who continue to see their children with "parent" eyes. I'm guilty of this, I know. "Daniel, don't forget to go to church....Daniel, don't forget to exercise...Daniel, STUDY!"

But, that being said, now that I'm thinking about it, there have been changes in Daniel...in his voice, his choice of words, his attitude...I realize that somehow, suddenly, he has grown out of childhood and slipped into adulthood.

I'm aware of Melancholy peeking over my shoulder as I glance through the photographs of Daniel at birth...crawling...on his first birthday...

Don't get me wrong...I'm glad Daniel's growing up - after all, I'm his mother and I want what's best for him...if you never grow up, your chances of having a relatively happy, successful, rewarding life get pretty slim. But still...Daniel is funny. He's sweet. He's honest. He's goofy. He's thoughtful. He's creative. I pray he doesn't think these are childhood things to be put away. 

I think tomorrow night I'll remind him of Madeleine L'Engle's words..."The great thing about getting older is you don't lose all the other ages you've been."  

A year ago today..."My Lucky 13 Baby"

Twenty-one years ago today...preparing to meet Daniel and holding him for the very first time...

A blink of an eye and a year later (and tonight, just a few pages later...) he's off and running, ready to discover the world. He hasn't stopped yet and I hope he never does...

 Happy, happy 21st birthday, Daniel!! I can't wait to see what happens next!

 
 

Like Standing on Boo Radley's Porch

One of my favorite quotes in To Kill a Mockingbird is when Atticus says you should "climb into someone's skin and walk around in it" before judging them. The point is visually driven home in the movie when Scout stands on Boo Radley's porch seeing the world, or at least the neighborhood, from his point of view.

For the last few months, I have been in a crash course on autism. My company (NameStormers) sponsors a nonprofit website called Jobs4Autism.com, and part of my job is promoting and moderating the website, including writing short blog posts, researching autism, and communicating with some individuals on the spectrum through Twitter, email and Facebook. I have to admit it's the most interesting and rewarding part of my job. Every day I learn a little more, and realize that what I know is a drop in the bucket.

In my research I came across this documentary video, "Inside Looking Out" by Nick Simone, a young man with Asperger's Syndrome, a form of autism. Like Scout standing on Boo Radley's porch, watching this video allows us to look at the world from Nick's point-of-view and in doing so, have more understanding for those in the autism spectrum.

    Take a look and prepare to be impressed....

Morning

 

Through the blackest night, morning gently tiptoes, feeling its way to dawn. ~Robert Brault

A Welcome Sound at the Bend

I first heard it at the point where the road bends and dips - the soft gurgling of running water. When was the last time I heard that music out here? I can't remember. I'm sure I took it for granted at the time, not realizing I wouldn't hear it again for months and months.

Nestled between two hills above the road, there's a pond that captures the rain. The water seeps downhill to this low spot, passes under the road through a culvert Tom installed (so we didn't have to drive through the creek), follows a rocky creek bed and finally joins Long Hollow Creek - the one that crosses through our property...or at least used to cross through before the arrival of the drought and the dam. Time, and more rain, will tell whether or not we still have a creek running behind our house.

Max is a water dog; he made a beeline for a cool pool in the woods several feet downstream from where the water runs under the road. Everything is greener. Flowers bloom, awakened by the rain, coaxed by sunshine and 90 degree temperatures.

Again, it amazes me and inspires me that the earth can tuck itself in like that, stubbornly hanging on, biding its time, having faith that the drought would eventually end. Now it's time to celebrate and give thanks.

During my days of drought, I'll try to remember the earth, its faith and this celebration.

"Come forth into the light of things; Let Nature be your teacher." (William Wordsworth)

A Recipe for Relaxation, Renewal and FUN!

Take a cup of Lago,
Add a dash of Deepwater,
Stir in 2 Tbsp. Family.
Pour mixture over a layer of beach sand, drizzle with sunscreen and margarita.
Bake 4 days under the Gulf sun.

Road trip!! I'm heading out for my yearly retreat to the coast. I'll be joined by some of my Lago women, my sister and niece, and a dear friend from high school.

I can't wait to hear the roar of the waves, feel the kiss of the sun on my skin, "drink the wild air" and spend unrushed time with some wonderful women.

No to-do lists, no computers, no schedules.

Today is also Mary Kay's birthday (one of the "girls") so we'll be celebrating her all weekend!

 Back in 4...

Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

Summer Returns as Longhorns Trample Miners

"I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

My thoughts echoed Nathaniel's when I first woke up this morning and saw the brilliant autumn sunshine beckoning and felt the brisk breeze coming through my windows. It was a gorgeous, perfect autumn morning.

Unfortunately, summer wasn't ready to give up the stage - it returned for an encore a few hours later just as we took our seats in the Darrell K. Royal - Texas Memorial Stadium, so we baked and sweated in the stands for four hours as the Longhorns whooped the UT-El Paso Miners. (Final score 64-7... ouch!)

We were guests of our friends Mary Kay and Joe, avid Longhorn fans, no matter what the sport. Their son is on the Big Bertha team this year.

In return, we treated them to dinner at Waterloo Ice House after the game, and after picking Kendall up from her dorm (it's time for another shopping trip!)

It's funny...I said all week, "oh, I'll just take care of that this weekend..." about all of the tasks piling up around here. But now the weekend is halfway over, tomorrow seems to be spoken for between Mass and shopping, and I haven't done a damn thing on my list! Also, I'm still struggling with Chapter 3 on my book (although I think once this one is complete, the next few will flow quickly.) Next weekend is my girls' weekend on the coast, so I can't even tell myself "next weekend" with a straight face. I know I'd be lying.

It's really tough to get things done when you're never at home to do them. But I'm not complaining...I've been having a blast and the things that really need to get done somehow get done. The rest will just have to wait. Maybe weekend after next...

Am I the only one who feels like they never get anything accomplished?

Scenes from the day...

Thinking of Bonfires and Peace

I wore a jacket on my walk this morning. Fall is trying to push summer off the stage. It isn't going without a fight - our temperatures are predicted to climb back up into the 90's this weekend.

But this morning dark blue clouds filled the northern sky - I'm not sure if this qualified as a real 'blue norther' but the brisk wind and gray skies made me think of bonfires, roasting marshmallows, and hot chocolate. I swear I could smell campfire smoke.

I'm seeing more deer on our walks - a sure sign of fall. They appear far down the road, usually just crossing into the woods on the other side. This morning one stood still in the middle of the road, staring at us. Max froze and stared back, but when the deer finally skittered into the woods, he ran after it. It was only a half-effort - he knows from experience he's not ever going to catch a deer - but he looks for excuses to run, especially now that he's stuck walking with senior citizens like me and Charly. Sometimes on our walks he'll bark and start running, and I swear he's just making it up. But Charly falls for it and tries to run after him, so it's a good thing.

Earlier this week a representative from the Texas Commission of Environmental Quality dropped by to check out our neighbor's dam. He was one of the first persons I talked to months ago - a really nice, sympathetic, understanding and helpful man- but his agency had no say in the matter until the dam continued to grow and grow and grow. He called me last week to let me know he'd be in the area. I haven't heard back from him this week; I'm very curious about his visit, and I've thought of calling to see what came of it, but I'm so tired of the whole thing, tired of hitting brick walls and hearing agencies say, "oh, what a shame, but there's nothing we can do."

Tom and I have reached a peaceful point of resignation about the dam; except for a few creative tit-for-tats we've imagined, there's not much else we can do about the situation, and in the grand scheme of things - life and death - it's just a background story. I've handed it over to God - to either have it removed or help me put it in the proper perspective and live in peace.

A friend sent me this article, written by another friend who wants to remain anonymous, and it reinforced that attitude...

"On Sunday, September 6th, I arrived at church and worship was just beginning.  The Lord impressed on me three wonderful words "It is broken."  As always, anytime we hear from the Lord, we get excited.  I moved on into worship, all the while pondering with Him what He meant by this and whom this word was for.   There was such anticipation in my heart.  Over the course of the worship time, as I looked across the sea of many familiar precious faces, faces with many battle scars from the trials of life, God showed me that this word was for the entire body.
 
It is broken.  Whatever burden weights us down, it is broken.  Whatever tie has kept us bound is broken.  Whether it is physical illness or emotional turmoil, it is broken.  Whether it be addictions, distractions, afflictions, deceptions, pain, blame, unforgiveness, pride or apathy, IT IS BROKEN!   Whatever name you put on it, God has already stamped over it "BROKEN!"  He reminded me that it was broken on the Cross -- and the body of Christ IS already healed.  In my own life and the lives of my wonderful church family, however small and trivial or mountainous and insurmountable, IT IS BROKEN off of us!  
 
My sweet daddy just celebrated another birthday. To be honest, I wasn't sure he'd live to see it.  He has been battling Parkinson's and Dementia for the past 5+ years. He is very frail both in his mind and his body.  It has been a very long, painful, heart wrenching, grueling road.  God reminds me so beautifully though that even this too is broken.  One day my dad will walk in complete wholeness - be it here on earth or with the Lord in heaven.  Parkinson's and Dementia are not my dad's identity. They are already broken off of him.    So be encouraged! Whether you see it today, tomorrow, next week or next year, your burden be lifted  - IT IS BROKEN!
 
The breaking of the drought this week is a physical picture of the spiritual breaking throughout the body of CCC."

Thanks to my friends - for the writing and the sharing of this inspiration.

Oh, and happy 60th birthday to Bruce Springsteen! Thank you for following your dreams so many years ago and sharing your music, energy, passion and poetry with all of us.

Sunshine and Sprouts

The sun came out this afternoon. It drew me out to the porch, where I scratched puppy dogs' ears, admired the blue sky peeking through the oak tree branches, marveled at the greenness around me and at how quickly things had sprouted in our little front yard.

I spend most of my day inside, in front of a computer. Some days my brain feels like it's in its own little drought - but give me a porch swing, sunshine and fresh air, and I can feel little sprouts of thoughts popping up in my head...

"The privilege of a lifetime is to be yourself." (Joseph Campbell)

I've been thinking about this one for awhile. It sounds so simple, and yet, if you toss it around a few times, you see it's a bit more complicated than you first thought. What does it mean to be yourself? Don't we spend a lifetime trying to figure that out?

That reminded me of "Shirley Valentine", a movie Tom and I watched this weekend....my sister Brenda and I don't think alike about everything, but most things we do, so I should have known I'd love the movies she recommended and loaned to me almost a year ago. In my defense, I couldn't get anyone to watch them with me until now, and I had forgotten about them. Tom is the one that pulled Shirley off the shelf this past weekend. It's a perfect movie for me to watch right now, about a woman peeling back layers of life that have accumulated over the years and happily discovering she's still in there. It's funny, sensitive, and surprising.

Brenda had to remind me about "Cinema Paradiso" - oh, I hate that I went so long without seeing this one! It's in Italian, but within minutes, I didn't even notice the subtitles. It's about friendship, how it can pop up in the weirdest places, support you for a lifetime, and inspire you to be yourself. One minute I was laughing and the next I was reaching past Tom for a Kleenex.

Speaking of friendship, we spent Sunday afternoon with our gang of my ex-high school classmates, and even some of their kids in their twenties joined us (not mine, though.) We sang Happy Birthday to Darla's daughter, and to another friend that was celebrating in Houston, but that's not why we got together. It's that friendship thing. They are part of what makes me "me", and I've neglected that part long enough. Life is short.

Patrick Swayze. Although it wasn't unexpected, it makes me sad knowing he's gone. Graceful, macho, sensitive, sexy, talented...

I bet, by the end, he understood what Joseph Campbell meant...

"The privilege of a lifetime is to be yourself."

 

Chin Up, Late Bloomers

"I'm a late bloomer, but I finally figured out that there is always going to be someone better than you, and, at some point, you just have to say, that's OK, I still have something to offer."

~Kathy Davis, former art teacher turned millionaire greeting card designer