Missing ... but thankful

Tonight I am missing my children. I just looked back at our beach pictures and wanted them all here again. Wanted them on the porch, candles lit, porch swing chain creaking as it swayed, cicadas thrumming in the background. Alas, they are spread far and wide. As I write, they are in rural New York state, Israel, Denver, Cary NC, New York City, Minneapolis, and Chapel Hill. I get to see the North Carolina boys, d-i-l, and grandbaby on Sunday. Hooray!

I marvel at these children. They are doing wonderful and amazing things and I stand back and watch and cherish the incredible gift I've been given in each one of them. As our family has grown through marriage and the births of grandchildren, I feel deeply thankful for each added person. One more to love. I pray for the grace to do it well.

Catching up #5: The beach

Do you know how hard it is to get six grown children who are scattered around the country - some married, some with children - all (minus one son-in-law) in the same place at the same time, all together, when there is not a family wedding happening? It is very hard, practically unheard of, requires months-in-advance planning. It's a minor miracle and a gracious gift.

I am thinking back on that sweet time with our family together and feeling incredibly thankful for our children who all made the sacrifices of time and money to get there. They are now scattered quite widely again. In fact, as of 1:00 yesterday afternoon, none of our children were here, none even in this same city. Ouch! Not a situation this mother particularly likes. A couple are still in-state, but only one son, one sweet d-i-l, and one grandbaby will be in NC come tomorrow afternoon. They should get some kind of prize, don't you think?!

The porch swing sat empty this morning. Only the cat joined me as I sat in the quiet with my coffee, Bible, and books. Ah, but let's not think about that right now. Here, with minimal further comment, are a few wonderful reminders of our all-together, completely wonderful beach week ...

 Aunt Kailie and Uncle Matthew and Clara, wave jumping 

Good morning, babies.

 Not only were all 14 of us there, but we had the privilege of times together with my parents and sister's family. Barbeque on Sunday night supplied by my mom. And see all those peaches in the middle of the island. Thank goodness, McCleod's is on the way to the beach. We stop there, coming and going, every beach trip.

 We even managed a family photo which isn't half bad. (Cue the comments from the 20 somethings about photo sharing online and the unnecessary imposition of posing while everyone gets a picture with their own camera or phone). Here we are ... great grandparents (my beautiful Mama and Daddy), grandparents (that's Coty and me!), Great Aunt Anne and Uncle Rusty, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. That's us, ya'll.

  

 Porch time. Beach version.

 The last time this particular group of people was all together (minus the children, of course) was at Lil's wedding. Erin was 13, Matthew was 3!

My children can cook!  And they did. 

Each one took a dinner, planned the menu, and cooked for the rest of us. 

We ate very well.

 Aunt Yogi supervises handstands.

Always a baby to hold and play with ... 

Some of us made a visit to one of my favorite places on earth, Brookgreen Gardens, 

which was only a couple of miles from our house.

Sandcastles ...

 Walks with uncles ...

Lots of Frizcup. These two are the champs. 

 Lots of cornhole on the beach

 Coty and all 5 sons went for a run together on the beach on Father's Day morning!

And now, we're all scattered ... the guys from left to right in New York City, Cary (NC - he's the one that gets the prize ; ), Minneapolis, Nashville, and Denver. And Erin, on her way back to rural New York state near the Vermont border. 

Looking forward, as always, to the next time we gather, whenever and wherever that may be!

A winter ride

I wish I had pictures to show you, but alas, I don't. I went on a ride yesterday afternoon and all the time, I kept thinking how beautiful the winter afternoon was and what I had the privilege of seeing. And to think, I almost missed it.

My husband, ever faithful, ever disciplined, rarely deterred from exercising because of weather or anything else was getting ready for a ride. I'd been sewing all afternoon and was happily closing in on finishing a project. It was 42 degrees. I was feeling not exactly lazy, but just not up for going out, knowing I was going to be cold ... and you know how I hate to be cold. I was battling the inertia inherent in stopping one activity in which I was totally engrossed and starting another one which I knew would not exactly be pleasant, at least at the beginning. I was rationalizing not exercising by saying I needed to finish my project. But, I really didn't need to finish. It was just an excuse.

Coty asked if I wanted him to wait for me. "I don't know," I moaned. "Just go ahead," I finally told him, not sure if I was actually throwing in the towel for the day or not.

This is where having a goal that you've stuck to for a while helps. That two walks, two swims, two bike rides a week goal that I set back in November has become more or less routine. It is so much easier for me now to rouse myself to get out there and walk, ride, or swim so that I will stay on track with my goal. I don't have a perfect "streak" but I've been sticking with it. So, I went upstairs and changed into cycling clothes, found a hood to wear under my helmet to keep my ears and neck warm, and headed out.

A little observation - the act of changing into workout clothes means I've won. I've overcome the inertia and will soon be out the door.

As I expected, I was cold. I know that 42 degrees isn't frigid. It's really pretty pleasant for early January, especially if it's a gloriously clear and sunny early January day. But remember, when you ride, there's "wind chill." Pedaling faster at the beginning means I'm going to be colder. Speeding up as I go downhill means I'm going to be colder.  And you know how I hate ... yea, I said that already.

It took two miles for me to warm up. Fingers and toes stayed cold the whole ride, but the rest of me was fine. And then, I started noticing things like ...

• the crisp, clean feeling of the winter air on my face,
• the way the slanting afternoon sun turned the siding on the houses I passed to lavender, salmon, and pink,
• the stillness of a hawk on a phone line, perched, watching, waiting,
• the beauty of a field of dried grasses waving in a slight breeze
• the winter sun and its halo and then in the last mile, a sundog

I had decided when I started on my ride that I would not concentrate on time or pace. I was just going on a ride with the intention of overcoming the cold aversion and enjoying myself. I did. 15 miles of pleasure. Further than I intended to ride. It just felt good to keep going.

The memory of yesterday's ride will help me keep going through the remainder of this winter. There will likely be colder rides. I will likely battle inertia again and likely complain about the cold. But I'll try to remember the lavender houses, the hawk, and the sundog, and then slip into my thermals and head out.

Happy anniversary to us!

35 years ago today, we made a covenant with each other.  A mere two years after making it, we were on the verge of breaking it. Selfish, self-centered, focused on our own agendas, completely ignorant of how to work toward unity, we were headed in a very dangerous direction. But God in his infinite mercy turned us around. It is rather terrifying to think what life would have been like had we not been rescued by the overflowing love of a gracious God. Through the joys and vicissitudes of marriage, through children and moves and job changes, through happy seasons of ease and light, through times of uncertainty and dark seasons of pain, we have walked and grown and learned what it means to be one.

I am more me and he is more him and we are more us than we have ever been. Unity in marriage has not diminished our personalities in the one, but made us more completely who we are as individuals as we have experienced the perfecting work of submitting to each other in love.

This is hard work.  The flush of young love wore off long ago.  It has been replaced by the patina of years of coming through together, of looking back after traversing a particularly treacherous passage and realizing we'd made it in one piece, we were stronger, and we could actually laugh in joy and triumph together.

This is rather a mystery, how you can become more yourself, more who you are meant to be, as you become more united with another. But then, the God who rescued us as a young, headstrong, foolish, selfish couple tells us it is not just a mystery, but a profound mystery. I have pondered often this image of marriage as a reflection of Christ and the church. Christians are not subsumed into the Godhead; the church, the body of Christ is not obliterated by union, but sanctified, made more complete, more who she is meant to be.

I am a complementarian. Some of you will know, or at least think you know, what I mean by this. For those of you who don't, I simply mean that I understand marriage in the way it is described in Ephesians 5. (Go read it). There is a headship and submission in marriage that is a reflection of the headship and submission between Christ and the church.  I run the risk, I know, of being lumped in with the caricatured version of this picture.  The macho, demanding, unswerving, harsh "head" husband and the timid, weak, mousey, victimized, "submissive" wife. But this is merely a caricature and could not be further from my experience or further from what I think the biblical picture truly is.

I have come to see that the caricature has arisen because people have not truly understood unity; not truly understood that the goal in marriage is not to be good at performing some sort of role, but that the goal is to be one. I am thankful for that insight that became more clear after teaching together on marriage at a seminary in a small town in Cameroon in 2001. I am thankful for that insight that we found so beautifully described by Tolstoy in Anna Karenina (I'll copy that selection to the comments in case you'd like to read it).

We've been married now for 35 years. There were some wonderful things that we did in the first two years, but they were mostly tearing down and learning by mistake years. Since then, for the last 33 years, Coty and I have set our hearts and minds and wills to work toward unity. By God's grace and with his enabling, we will continue to strive for it.

26 years ago, I woke in the middle of the night (2:15 AM, to be exact) and didn't feel so good.  I was nine days past my due date and soooo ready to give birth.  I called the midwife and told her nothing was really happening yet.  In the middle of the call, she sensed a change in my voice and said she was on her way. Less than two hours later (4:05, to be exact), we held our baby boy in our arms.

His birth came fast and was a bit more, shall we say, exciting, than we had expected. A slow heart rate momentarily during labor and the cord tight around his neck at birth were just a bit scary for us, but our midwives did what midwives do and delivered him with care and skill.  That baby boy got his name the next day. "He looks like a Thomas," I said.  Named after his father, he's the one that most resembles Coty in looks.  He takes after him in many other ways, as well.  He's planning to run his first marathon in March.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

He became a father this year, as you faithful readers know.  One of the great joys for me in 2014 has been watching my son care for his son.  He is a very good father, a very involved father, not a bit afraid of his newborn or tentative like some new dads.  I watch him cuddle his little boy, watch him change diapers, tickle and toss his baby in the air with confidence and joy.  I am filled with delight and gratitude.

Happy birthday, Thomas. It's been quite a year, hasn't it!

A full cupboard

I just finished reading, The Full Cupboard of Life, the fifth book in Alexander McCall Smith's delightful #1 Ladies Detective Agency series.  I love these stories of the doings of Precious Ramotswe, a lady detective in Botswana.  I also love the narrator for this audiobook series, Lisette Lecat.  She has the perfect voice, diction, intonation, inflection, and accent for these books.

But, I didn't really intend to write about the book this evening. It's the title I'm thinking of and how right now, it seems very apropos to my own life.  I have both an empty nest and a full cupboard.

Matthew and Kailie are coming this weekend.  They got married in May but our NC friends and many of our east coast relatives were not able to make the trip to Colorado so we're having an NC reception/party on Saturday.  I've been baking and baking and baking.  Double ginger gingerbread cake, mini pumpkin cheesecakes, salted caramel apple bars, chocolate meringue stars, lemon bars, coconut pound cake, biscuits and more biscuits and yes, I'll serve our family favorite, pimiento cheese biscuits with pepper jelly and bacon. (It is true that there are dissenters in the ranks who think pimiento cheese is just weird, but they are vastly outnumbered by the lovers of this particular combination).  Anyway, two freezer shelves are full-up and I've still got to make the warm turnip green dip and the artichoke crostinis.  It's gonna be good, friends.

But, I wasn't really thinking about my literal full cupboard (or freezer).

I was thinking more about the fullness of these days.  I am not interested in a crazy-busy-frenzied fullness like a disorganized, overflowing pantry full of past dated canned goods, stale crackers, and moth infested corn meal.  I want a well-stocked-pantry fullness, with the necessary staples and spices in their place and enough room between the jars, boxes and bottles to see what's there and reach for what I need without digging to find it and upsetting the whole cupboard in the process. Full enough with what is needed with gaps in between.

I do stay pretty busy these days. There are rarely (perhaps never) days when I wonder what to do. I often wonder about the order in which I need to do things, but the what is never an issue. Some of those days involve what looks like busy-ness - errands, sewing classes, lab class. They appear more busy than the other days, those "gap" days, the quieter ones when I sit longer with my coffee in the morning and read another chapter.  It is a luxury, perhaps, to linger like this and I feel guilty sometimes. I tell myself, "Get busy.  Get to work.  Be productive. Get a job!"  Or to assuage my (false) guilt I tell myself, "You've earned this.  You raised six kids.  You homeschooled for twenty-five years. You worked hard. Now relax."  And part of me buys one of those lines or the other. But thankfully, the gray haired, sager part of me says, "The value is not in doing things.  It's not about earning anything.  That was a season and this is a season and the quiet, extra chapter days are for fullness, too."

So, my cupboard is full of doing and not doing.  Of items and spaces; of activity and gaps.  I could list some of the activities, show you what a day looks like and maybe you want to know, but it will not be a prescription for anyone, only an accounting of this particular life.  Let's save that for another day, though, for a discipline for me, perhaps, to show up in this space a bit more often!

Seattle, Portland and the gift of friends

After San Diego, Coty and I went to Seattle.  Ah, Seattle - this city and its environs and so beautiful.  All the water - the Puget Sound, the lakes, the rivers - and of course, the mountains - the Olympic range to the east and Mt. Ranier, such a majestic backdrop to the city (when you can see it ; )

We visited the Arboretum and, upon the strong recommendation of a friend here, the Japanese Gardens (thanks, Joy).  We went to the Ballard Locks and Gas Works Park and later in the visit, I got to go to the Museum of History and Industry.  We went to the top of Mt. Erie for the views and hiked near Deception Pass and Rosario Beach.  We spent a lovely day in La Conner and watched boats and seals in the Skagit River from our lunch restaurant deck.

Coty left after a couple of days to fly to Indonesia but I stayed for a nice long visit ...

As much as there is to see and do in Seattle, though, this trip was not mostly about seeing the sights.  It was about seeing my friends.  My oldest friend and one of my newest.

In the ninth grade, we were the new girls.  I had moved from Atlanta and she from Philadelphia. We went to a play with our English class and hit it off.  Then we were in the school play together, she the sophisticated northern girl, me the hillbilly hick.  Fitting.  The other morning when I came downstairs to her beautiful kitchen that looks out across the fields to a snow capped mountain, I told her I'd done the math.  We've been friends for 43 years.

I know how rare it is in this day and age to have a friend who's known you for so long.  One who knows your history and your family, who you love even more now than ever, a friend that you laugh with just as much as you did when you were teenagers, a friend that prays for you, and remembers birthdays and significant dates.  Such a friendship is a gift. A treasure.

And then, I got on a bus and rode for three and a half hours to Portland where I finally met, face to face, a friend that I've known via the internet for a long time.  A few people that I told about my trip thought it was a bit odd that I was going to meet and stay in the home of a person I had only known online and through a few handwritten cards.  Someone told me I was brave.  Others were curious.  It didn't feel odd or scary to me.  It was more like a Julia and Avis moment, I told someone.  We've corresponded at length and deeply for a long time and it was time to meet in person.  I was going to the Pacific Northwest anyway.  Why not take a trip to Portland and sit face to face with this dear friend, to fill in the colors of the line drawing of our friendship.

And so we met - on a city street, as I got off the bus.  There she was with her youngest son and we hugged and went to breakfast and shopped for books. A street poet wrote a poem for us. Then we drove the 45 minutes or so to her home among the trees and it felt just. right.

We talked and talked over coffee and tea, we cooked together knowing that we share such similar thoughts and tastes about food, we walked in the woods and along a trail that was familiar to me because I've seen pictures from this place for years.  The rain came in the night, the pellet stove warmed, the ducks quacked, the cat crawled on my lap.  This friendship, too, is such a gift.  This woman, a treasure to me.

Sitting here, thinking about these friends who are physically far away but oh, so near in my heart makes me miss them, makes me wish they were closer, makes me wish we could just drop over for coffee or share a meal together, but, dadgummit, there's a whole, big country in between.  Why do we have to be so far apart!  Ah, well - let me be glad this morning.  I'll not bemoan the distance, but give thanks that I've been given the sweet gift of deep friendship, two times over out there in the Pacific Northwest.  Looking forward to my next trip some future day and urging them both to come soon to North Carolina!

Porch time

Porch time is, for me, a treasured time.  We move to the screen porch after the dishes are done and light only candles. Crickets humming as background music, the squeak of the porch swing chain marking the slow rhythm of our conversation, we tell stories, laugh, sit quietly, and then by ones and twos, drift inside and to bed.

Clara was introduced to porch time tonight.  She heard stories about her Uncle Joel getting seven shots at once when he was six years old, her Gramma hooting like an owl in answer to the next door neighbor boy's owl calls, her Mom and Dad's early conversations and house designs when they were but teens in Cameroon.  There were a few jokes.  She told one about cupcakes in the oven and we all laughed.

The porch is a special place.  We all feel it.  We all love it.  

Addendum

It's a big day/week/year for another reason that I was just reminded of ... this young man begins his Ph.D studies today.  (Well, he sort of continues ... Jonathan's at the same institution, the University of Denver where he completed his MA in International Studies last spring).

Thanks to his mother-in-law, Maata ji (aka Kathy Kingsley) who took this wonderful picture back in the summer.

I am amazed and humbled that I have this privilege also ... of seeing my children work hard to discover and pursue what is important to them; to strive through challenges and hardships, to persevere in the ups and downs, toward significant goals.

I don't write too much about my adult children anymore here because, well, they are adults.  Their lives are their own to share or not, with the wide world, as they please.

There are many, many times that I miss the old days; the full house, the noise, the involvement in activities of my children ... horses, chorus, theatre, football, orchestra, movie-making, soccer.  As much as I miss those days, however, I am well content in this new-ish season.  I say "ish" because we only became empty-nesters last fall. I am still getting used to it, still figuring out what it looks like to be a mother-from-a-distance.  That distance is only physical, though - each of my six, and now their spouses and children -  are never far away in my thoughts, hopes, longings, and prayers.

In the Gramma department ...

this is a pretty great week!

Today, we're remembering the arrival of the little girl that made us grandparents for the first time. 

(holding newborn Clara for the very first time)

Later this week, Clara (and her mom and brother, Levi!) arrive for a nice long visit.

And, of course, yesterday we got to spend time with Thomas and Kay and baby David.

I am incredibly grateful for the privilege of being Gramma to the these three little ones and pray for the wisdom to love them well, to encourage and support their parents, and to point them to the beauty and glory of God in all things.  It is a weighty and joyous thing to be a grandparent.

On another note, today is my parents' 60th wedding anniversary.  That's a pretty special and increasingly rare milestone. I am so thankful for their example of faithfulness, support, and love through these many years.

Happy 5th birthday, Clara, and Happy Anniversary, Mama and Daddy!

And then we went to Bolivia ...

The beginning of this summer has been full of big events, one after another in rapid succession.  The wedding.  Then my dad, who had a bad fall the week before the wedding, had hip replacement surgery and we were back and forth several times to see him. And then, we went to Bolivia.

Now, I am home and it is quiet and I look ahead and see not big happenings but small, daily, routine regularity.  The incessant barking of dogs at night in Malasilla has been replaced by the constant hum of cicadas; high altitude with its dry, cool, thin air by sultry, humid, hot days with the threat of afternoon thunderstorms.  The daylilies are still blooming and the garden desperately needs weeding.  I have a large quilt to finish and plans to make for family gatherings and work in the weeks ahead.

But for today, for this next weekend, I am moving slowly, telling myself it is just fine to sit on the porch and read for a long stretch and then perhaps close my eyes and rest.  I can do a little here and there and not worry about making or checking off lists.  I can wander in the garden and pull a few weeds but I am not going to start on any big project in earnest just now.  It is time to rest.

I almost didn't go to Bolivia.  I had thought I would stay home and mind things here while Coty and Joel went, but strong encouragement to come from my dear friend, Lisa, and the changes in plans of others who had previously considered making the trip, leaving a smaller group than originally expected, prompted me to just say yes and go.

We went as a team from our church - not to build a building or hand out food or anything like that. We went to hang out with SIM missionaries at their annual Spiritual Life Conference.  Coty spoke every morning during the week on the Sermon on the Mount and while he did that with the moms and dads and older adults and single college student summer interns, the rest of us played with the children.  We brought a five day Bible Club curriculum which we worked our way through in the mornings, but mostly we colored and read books, played silly, impromptu games and  rolly-ball (an old Pinckney stand-by, made up years ago when we had a house full of little people).  We held little ones on our laps and pushed them around on bikes in the courtyard.  Some of our group spent time with the teens reading and discussing a book. We went on walks, played basketball, ate meals all together in the dining room, drank coca tea, and gazed across hillsides with small farms, sheep, and eucalyptus trees.  It was a week of getting to know the wider SIM Bolivia family.

Each of us that went feels richer and more deeply appreciative of the challenges faced by the folks we met, who, compelled by the love of Christ, live and work in a culture not their own.

The conference week was bracketed by two weekends in La Paz with the Miser family.  We did touristy things - shopping in the city market area, riding the new Teleferico (well, some did.  Joel was violently ill that morning, so he and I laid low at the apartment) hiking, eating out at Scotty and Lisa's favorite restaurants.  We also just enjoyed normal life with them - cooking, eating, washing dishes, playing games, meeting their friends, hauling water when there was no running water in the house, drinking coffee.  The time with Scotty, Lisa, Natty, and Jubilee gave us more insight into their specific challenges and knit our hearts even more closely together.  We miss them a LOT already!

"Simple Aliveness"

"Things have changed greatly and still are changing, can they change much more? ...

And yet I wonder sometimes whether we are progressing.  In my childhood days life was different, in many ways, we were slower, still we had a good and happy life, I think, people enjoyed life more in their way, at least they seemed to be happier, they don't take time to be happy nowadays."   

-Grandma Moses from her autobiography, published in 1952 (she was then 92)

Hoosick Falls in Winter, painted in 1944

Phillips Collection

"For all who suffer from what might be called living strain - and many do complain about the malady - a few minutes' exposure to the presence of Grandma Moses is powerful therapy.  On Tuesday this ninety-three-year-old lady made one of her rare trips from her up-state home in Eagle Bridge, NY, to appear at the annual Herald Tribune Forum.  Some said that she stole the show.  Others were impressed with her astonishing vitality, her mental alertness, her humor, simplicity, graciousness, enjoyment of the occasion, and so on.  The plain fact is, everybody felt reinvigorated while in her presence. ...

While many distinguished persons were appearing before the Forum, a little old lady of ninety-three stepped into their midst and endeared herself to all by her simple aliveness ..."

-New York Herald Tribune, October 22, 1953

This part of the country, this area of eastern New York, just near the Vermont border, is sometimes called Grandma Moses Country.   She began painting here when she was in her late 70's.  She lived to be 101.

I've driven these roads over the last four weeks - over the pass from Bennington looking down across snowy hillsides and rolling pastures toward the ice rimmed Hoosick River, passing old farms with their colonial era houses (white, with dark green shutters, very like my own house in North Carolina!) and red barns and weathered out buildings.  I've watched the colors of the sky change with the weather, brilliant azure on clear days with the sun casting long, undulating shadows across the snow, and gunmetal gray on days when the sun barely manages to pierce the overspreading haze of low, snow-laden clouds.  I've listened to the train that follows tracks right along the Hoosick and watched it slow to a crawl through the village, little boys waiting on the sidewalk to cross the tracks, counting the cars as they waved their arms and stamped their feet to keep warm.  I've noticed birches and sugar maples and old, old oaks.

On a beautiful walk in the woods and then over tea with Mary in front of the woodstove, I felt the sweetness of simple aliveness.  I think a few minutes exposure to the presence of my dear friend is pretty powerful therapy.  She doesn't paint, but she walks and knows the woods and trees and especially the birds, and hand feeds the chickadees as they follow her around the yard and down the driveway.  Anybody that comes to visit can hold out a hand with sunflower seeds and it's not long before a chickadee alights to snatch a seed. That's enough to reinvigorate anybody!

Driving home down the mountain late in the afternoon, the beauty caught me and held me. I imagined Grandma Moses looking at scenes so much like the one spread out in front of me.  The low rounded mountains, the foreground dotted with farm houses and fields and woods, and a winding river. I could understood her love of this place.  I'm very glad she picked up her brushes at 78 and started to paint.


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I'm also grateful to Alicia Paulson for mentioning this book, a used copy of which I promptly purchased and have just finished reading.