Gone for a while

I'm gone for a while, from blogging that is. I am still here, but my heart is heavy (and sometimes strangely peaceful at the same time), with cares for friends, for family, and for our country and world. I need the time now to be quiet, to reflect, and to work.

I will continue to post my projects on flickr - I need to note some measure of progress for my own benefit, so I can look back and see that I was there.

I finished Mammy's Flower Garden, an offering of love for Donna, and In the Beginning - Let there be Light, an offering of love for Nathan. My next big project will be Pentecost Moments (or Memories - both are working titles) for Todd. I purchased the fabric yesterday, and I can almost see it now. My sketch book is growing, and I'm almost ready to create some prototypes to hang around me as I try to discern the completed quilt in the fog of my vision.

Pray for peace, for wisdom, for understanding, for kindness, for our country and our world. Pray for healing for those we love who are ill. Pray for wholeness and a better way.

Silence - Micah died

Micah Bezy died two weeks ago. The world feels empty, somehow, without him. His mother, Margaret, is a close friend of mine. We see each other only in spurts, but when we do, we immediately recognize that there's something special between us.

Margaret and I used to sit in our cars and talk while our boys were in confirmation class together. I don't remember exactly if that's how we became friends, because at the same time this was going on, I took Margaret and Pierre on as tax clients and I did their returns for a number of years. Maybe that's how we became closer friends. MA and PA was the label on my tax files. Pierre is gone, too. He died a few years before Den did, if I remember correctly. Den died 11 years ago this year.

Micah was or would have been 40 this year. After high school, he went on to a technical college and then went on to work. He was a good worker and respected by his employer. Micah's last day at work was Tuesday, June 24, I believe. He apparently went home that evening, perhaps had his supper, sat down in his easy chair, and died. His heart probably failed him. A couple of years ago, he had some work done on one of his heart valves, totally unexpectedly. The valve must have failed him. When he didn't show up for work over the next few days and he didn't answer his phone, his employer called law enforcement to check on him, and they found him dead. His employer called Margaret and told her.

Micah was an honorable man, full of integrity. He was a practicing Lutheran all his life. He was thoughtful and serious about his faith, enjoyed good music, and pondered the things of the world. I remember when I was an organist at church, he always recognized the music when I played some of the old classics which weren't part of the mainstream of Lutheran church music. Micah was quiet, seemingly shy, but never unaware of things around him.

His mother hears the silence now. The silence is so deep that even the movement of air seems to be noisy. God is close to her now, providing a glorious euphoria even in her deep grief. Micah will be part of her in a new way now, for the rest of her life. She will carry him with her, now, forever.

In the meantime, life is for the living, and life is to be lived. That's our faith. Margaret is walking on, a step at a time, sharing the goodness that is hers to share with those around her. Those who are in her presence will learn much, if they listen, because she hears God in a new way. In the depths of her pain, there is a strange, unexplainable peace. God has her attention.

Later on Sunday, May 4 - Aberfeldy, Scotland

(See pictures on Flickr - the set is UK 08 / Aberfeldy)

We were warmly welcomed at church this morning, and we both really enjoyed the service. The pastor is on holiday, so an elder lead the beginnings of the service, and a guest pastor (one who seemed very familiar to the congregation - he may be retired from there) gave the sermon and finished the service. Both the elder and the pastor were very good, and both kept our attention throughout the service. The sermon topic was twofold: When times are bad, you can still live a Godly life; when times are bad, God is still working his purpose. We both enjoyed the sermon.
After church, we drove toward Kenmore to find the Croftmoraig Stone Circle, and I think I spotted it in a field running up a hillside - but there was no parking place to stop and the field belonged to some estate here. Ah, such as it it is!
We continued on to Kenmore, where the River Tay has its beginnings at Loch Tay, and we found a wonderful picnic area where we stopped to take some pictures.

On the drive back to Aberfeldy, we stopped at The Crannog Scottish Center where you can tour, for a price, a mockup of a Scottish thatched roof hut as it might have been during the iron age. We browsed the shop but we weren't willing to part with 5 pounds each to tour the hut and its contents. Maybe we're part Scottish. Truth be told, at least I am somewhat Scottish, descendant from Scotch-Irish folk who came to America in the 1700s.

On we went to Weem, just across the Tay from Aberfeldy - a nice little town that considers itself, it seems, as a continuation of Aberfeldy because it's so close.

We parked in town when we arrived back at Aberfeldy, and we walked and window shopped through the main street. Most stores are closed, but we spent a little time in each of the ones we found open. We found the library, and we think they might have free Internet access so we can pick up our e-mail. Monday is a bank holiday here, so the library is closed. We will try on Tuesday.

After a set of three cribbage games (I'm the winner of 2 out of 3 for this set, but we found a 10 stuck in the box when we finished - it might have turned the odds in my favor, but we can't be sure), I cast on 104 stitches for another hat and we watched the original Herbie movie; and then we went out to explore some paths we spotted today, to see how they connected to the one path we know about that leads from the resort into town.

Supper will be some yummy sausage - not spicy - with some onions, rice, and fresh lightly boiled carrots - our standard fare for this trip.

We've spent our first full day pretty well. Tomorrow, we'll check out the Birks, a 1-1/2-hour walk toward some falls about which Robert Burns wrote a poem. The entrance is within walking distance down the hill from us, so that will mean we don't need to drive. Later in the day, we may go into Pitlochy, about 15 miles from here. The roads are very, very slow because they're so narrow and twisty, so it will probably take us a little less than an hour to get there. Maybe we'll find a needlework store there so we can buy needle and thread to repair Lauren's umbrella. In all our travels, we find that a need for something specific like needles or groceries or something simple like a pencil helps make the days interesting, and we learn a lot about the towns as a result.

What church means to me ...

Flower Cross at Mt Olive
Originally uploaded by Suzie Rozie.

I always look forward to seeing the Easter cross at Mt. Olive. It takes a lot of effort by someone and produces such a beautiful symbol of Easter. The flowers are fresh, and they're carefully placed around the form to create this beauty. This year, the youth group put it together.

We don't always have an active youth group at Mt. Olive. Our church is small. Over the years, it expands and contracts almost equally, leaving the membership at a static number. The composition changes from time to time, though, and we don't always have the right number and mix of those who are in their teens and, perhaps, early 20s, to keep a group going. We've had a nice active group for the last few years. I don't know if they've created the flower cross before, but whether or not they have, I appreciate their efforts.

But my thoughts in creating this post included more than just my appreciation and enjoyment of the flower cross each Easter. My thoughts include the reasons I go to church, aside from the overriding intent to worship with people who believe more or less the way I do. Church has always been an important part of my life - social, spiritual, educational - bleeding over into anything and everything I have done.

As an example of one of the things church means to me at this time in my life, take this picture. It just looks like an ordinary, uninteresting picture of the back of people's heads during an ordinary, uninteresting Sunday church service. But it's really more than that.

This picture was taken Easter Sunday, so our crowd was a little larger than usual, and we sat in a different place than usual. Most of the time, we sit on the other side of the church, about 2/3 away from the front. I don't see the backs of everyone heads then, but I see a good number of them. I don't always know the names of the people I see, but the people are familiar to me.

There are a couple young families, and I delight in seeing them interact during the service and remember sitting with our young family, many years ago. My memories are comforting and I pray for those young families that they will be blessed as much as we have, that they will always hold onto their faith.

There are teenagers and young adults, and I know some of them are there because it's what their families do, and others are there, alone, by choice. I am blessed by those who are there by choice, because I know the guiding light of that choice will serve them well all their lives. Their being there is a witness to me. For those who are there just because it's what their families do, I pray that they, when offered the choice later in their lives, will continue to seek their identity in their Christian beliefs and in the church.

There are aging couples, and I pray with love for them, for their health, for their remaining years together, knowing that there may be tough times ahead. That's true for us, too. Some of them are having tough times even now.

There are the widows, and sometimes widowers, and I am inspired by their example, by their courage, by the exhibition of their continuing faith, and I learn from them. I thank God for them, for their example, and I pray for strength for them.

There are cranky people, happy people, beautiful people and those who are not so beautiful, and I wonder at the lot of us, that we're here together and there's really no difference between us. We all are seeking that strength, solace, encouragement, forgiveness, character, and guidance that we receive from being their together, worshipping, bonded by our common beliefs. Being with these people encourages me.

We have a choir of ordinarily no more than a half a dozen aging voices, none of them trained, with a mixed variety of talents. That they sing for us often is always a blessing to me, even when they don't quite sing on tune. That they are there, believe the words they're singing, derive joy from their joint effort to present the Word in music to us, brings me joy. I thank God for them.

Our pastor is not Billy Graham or Adrian Rogers (famous among Baptists for his Jackie Gleason-like "How Sweet it is!" when he spoke the Gospel from the pulpit) or Billy Sunday or ... I could name many if I would do a little lookup on the Internet. No, our pastor won't be on the national circuit soon, but he's there for us every Sunday. He always has a lesson he wants to impart to us, and usually it has to do with forgiveness, keeping our eyes on Jesus, or another well laid-out point. I thank God for his faithfulness and the seriousness with which he takes his shepherding of our little flock. I'm sure there are more glamorous or interesting things he could be doing, but he's with us each Sunday.

So the picture of the backs of the heads of the congregation on Easter this year is meaningful to me. Seeing the backs of these heads is one of the things church means to me. These are my people, no matter what we have or don't have in common. We are bonded by a forgiving love that's greater than the sum of all of us. We all believe we can be better than we are - even though we stumble around and sometimes see nothing but failures - and that being better means we give up our time - and our lives - to someone greater than ourselves. We all have the hope that our faith brings, and it's contageous.

Church is way more than even these small things to me. Church, as inconvenient as it sometimes seems when I think I'm too busy, too interested in something else, too tired, too disgruntled, too whatever, is necessary to my life. It's an outward sign of my beliefs. It's how I put my money where my mouth is.

Church is where I go to remind me who I am, who I belong to, what I believe, and who I want to be. Church makes me believe again when my hopes and beliefs are dashed by discouragement. Church makes me know that I can ignore my imperfections and move on. Church reminds me that every day is a new day, and that God is always with me.

Night

(Originally written Dec 23 07. I'm not sure why I didn't post it.)

I love the night. I love to quietly sit outside and take in all I hear and see.

This evening, the moon is bright, and it illuminates the roof tops and trees around us in our neighborhood. It's so bright that it lights up streaks of clouds in the sky. It's beautiful. And restful. And somehow peaceful. The moon just does what it does, and I just sit in my back yard and watch it and all that's around it.

A plane goes by, and I wonder where it's going. Maybe I would like to go, too. I hope the people are going places they want to go, not places they must go because something sad has happened in their lives. I hope they're going to where open arms await them, not going away from arms that have refused an embrace.

I see the stars, and wonder if they're really stars or planets. I'm not one who could really ever tell the difference, but if I wanted to disturb my solitude, I could go ask Lauren. He'd know. Dad always knew, too.

I hear coyotes in the distance. They seem so close, but it's at least a mile from here before you find any open territory. I don't hear them all the time, just sometimes, and I wonder what drives them to come so close to neighborhoods. I hope they haven't surrounded someone's pet and are doing what coyotes do. We used to have a lot of them when we first moved here 30+ years ago, but they moved farther away as our neighborhoods expanded. But recently, they seem to have come back.

I see cars over on Poway-Scripps Parkway - people coming home from a day out, or perhaps leaving for an evening out. Maybe some of those people are headed to a holiday party; and maybe some had to work today and are finally getting to come home.

When I wake up in the morning, it's still dark. Usually, I'm up around 5:00, but sometimes it's earlier. There is a steady stream of cars on the parkway even then, and I'm amazed that these people go to work so early. Although I've always loved to get up early in the morning, I've never been one to want to go to work early. I've always enjoyed my quiet time in the morning. I think I got in the habit of rising early when the children were small. If I could get some quiet time before they woke up, I was better prepared to enter their day with them.

Sometimes I sit in this room, a spare bedroom that faces the street, with the lights out, and I watch the night from here. Tonight, I can see our Christmas lights and occasional red tail lights as cars pass the house. I like Christmas and all the lights people put up. It's the only decorating we do at Christmas these years, but we always do it because we enjoy the lights ourselves and we think we owe it to our neighbors so they can enjoy our lights, as well as theirs, too.

I thought about seeing if I could take a picture of the night tonight, but decided I wouldn't. It's really hard to capture a good night scene, especially with a little digital camera. In 2003, I did get some fairly decent pictures of a lunar eclipse, though.

Sitting outside at night - or in the early morning - is settling for me. I do a lot of thinking then, but not about anything in particular. I just let the thoughts come as they will. Sometimes night inspires me to write. Here's a little piece I wrote, inspired by a sunset, and another one, where I actually did get a picture of the night sky while I was thinking of a fellow from church who had recently died.

Tonight, the night inspired me to write, too. Tonight, I love the night.

This is what a mother and grandmother does ...

... when her child and the beloved family of her child is experiencing one of the most important moments of their lives - appearing before a judge asking permission to legally adopt one who has already become one with them.

She meditates and she prays.

She works with her hands because somehow the work becomes its own sort of prayer, and God knows the love and devotion that is always part of the work of a woman's hands.

There is silence except for the words escaping her lips as they are formed in her heart. The movement is back and forth, as she carefully pieces batting together and then just as carefully pins the top to the rest of the quilt sandwich - it's back and forth, except for those moments she is drawn to her knees for a moment - responding to some inner voice that says this is the thing to do right now.

Somehow the clock changed from California daylight savings time to time in the Philippines. Lauren set it just last week to reflect the arrival of our time change for the season, but now it's exactly 15 hours (3 hours, plus 12) from the time recorded by my cell phone and my watch. He even put a new battery in the clock. We don't know how the time managed to do that, but it manages to keep me focused on the morning time in the Philippines.

At 10 minutes before 10, Philippines time, it seems as though I feel some sort of release. I don't know what that's to signify, but I note it to myself, and then I continue for another couple hours, and then I break for supper. I could have put the work aside until the next morning (today), but I continued. Even if the hearing was over, it could be that the court was still considering the petition. Continuing seems to be a good thing to do, and I'm not tired after supper.

The news is that the court seemed to be amiable to the documents and the interviews with the family. I learn later that the interviews were intense, but the family remained calm. Even Erica, at a few months short of five, was quiet. Even she knew it was a very important day in her life.

The attorneys and other interested parties need to complete and submit the balance of their paperwork before the judge will rule, but we're very hopeful that his ruling will be favorable to this bonded family. We should know soon.

We're still praying ...



Today, I'm continuing with the quiet and prayerful work of the quilt, drawing the patterns I will sew in the blocks. I had originally thought I would do an overall design, but I think it would become lost in this busy collection of fabric. So, instead, I am going to quilt each 14-inch square separately, with flowers, plants, birds, butterflies, and things one might find in a garden - in Mammy's garden, that is.

Mammy's Flower Garden has become a prayer quilt.

Thanks, Marie!

I went to a memorial service this morning for Marie Baugh. She died January 16, at age 83.

I didn't know Marie well, but she was a good friend of Mom and Dad's and that was enough for me. I knew I needed to go and add to the number who would be there. The mass of people often speak comfort to those who are bereaved, something I learned long ago.

The last time I talked with Marie was shortly after Mom died (February 2003). Marie had taken over Mom's job of handling some of the money for their Sunday school class or something similar. She had received notification that a check had been deposited into their account, made out to Helen Hawkins, as some sort of teacher's retirement payment.

Well, Mom was never a teacher, so I was pretty sure it wasn't hers. I investigated it and eventually learned that it resulted from Wells Fargo's attempt to deposit the check to the account of, it seemed, any Helen Hawkins. They got it wrong, of course, depriving the real Helen Hawkins recipient the benefit of her monthly check. The people at the bank told me what to do, and I relayed the information to Marie. The check was for $1,800 +, so it wasn't a really small thing. I assume it eventually got straightened out and the intended Helen Hawkins was finally able to buy food for the month.

Marie was one of Dad's prayer partners for quite a number of years. I wonder of Marie's family is going to find lots and lots of prayer lists and journals as they clean out her household, and I wonder if they'll go through the same thought process I did - what to do with all this information. I decided to shred Dad's notes, and it took at least an afternoon even with my super-dooper shredding machine.

Marie's kids and grand kids will miss her terribly. She was a devoted mother as well as a spiritual leader and prayer warrior for so many. I will miss knowing she's there because her passing is another reminder that time is moving on.

The last memorial service I went to at The Well (The First Baptist Church of Poway - FBC for short, for me) was for Frank Self, a beloved and very close friend of Mom and Dad's. Frank died just a few months after Mom did in 2003. Frank had Parkinson's, and it was merciless. His mind was clear and active and his body became essentially non-functioning a few years before he died. Being so soon after Mom's funeral, and knowing Frank's condition and how close he and Dolores and my mom and dad had been, I grieved Frank (with some relief that his suffering was over) almost as though he were part of my family. He was certainly a major part of my family's history. When Dad died in 1997, Frank layed a rose inside his coffin. A few months later, he did the same for Den. Even then, Frank wasn't walking well and needed help. He stole a piece of my heart forever when he did that.

It was different with Marie's memorial service. During the service, I journeyed back in my mind to those years and all these wonderful people who ran around with my folks at the FBC. They were all amazing people, each one reaching out to love everyone around them, and I began to appreciate them in a new way.

Marie's family put on a wonderful celebration of her life, interrupted with breakdowns and many tears, but always bordering on another funny or inspirational story they could tell about their mother and grandmother. A thought came to me that Marie's life was doing one more ministry during the service - she was showing me - and others like me - how to do it, how to be the age I am now and how get to her age. I have been aware for some time that the rules are different now for me than they were when I was younger, but Marie's memorial service and the remembrances of her life gave me greater clarity.

So, in the end, as I watch the passing of my mom and dad's contemporaries, their gang, I have to say thank you to each of them for going before me and showing me the way. God bless you all ... and the thing is, I know He already has!

Sense of humor - men vs women

I'm catching up on my newspaper reading, and this morning I was reading the comics from January 6, the day we left for Tahoe. Luann just about cracked me up, so I shared it with Lauren. He didn't get it and wanted to discuss problems he's noticed with remotes.

Oh well!

On a more somber note, the Parade for January 6 featured an interview with Benazir Bhutto by Gail Sheehy (I think it was). The interview seemed to represent a candid dialog between the two women. That Bhutto was assassinated before the article was published gave the conversation greater weight for my pondering and, yes, even increased my regret that she's gone. Who knows just what Bhutto was like, what kind of Prime Minister she would have made for this present time. The politics are so at odds with one another, it seems the truth is no where to be found. But the fact that her voice is now silent seems such a shame.

Christmas Day... and more photos

Christmas services were beautiful last night. The music at Mt Olive was the best I've ever experienced, with a string and piano quartet from one family's children, the bell choir and Jessica, on her amazing trumpet, accompanying the organ and piano for carols, and a most gracious rendition of O Holy Night by Melinda H, now Melinda K for these many past years, with two sons of her own.

I have always loved to hear Melinda sing. She is among my top five favorite church soloists. Marion did a wonderful job supporting Melinda on the piano. Melinda has a high and very clear voice, and motherhood has only enhanced the warmth of her melodies.

Lauren took some pictures for us, and he got a great one of the quartet, but they are other people's children and I am reluctant to paste their faces on the Internet without their parents' approval ... so I won't.

Our young acolyte in the picture above is the oldest of the children, and he's dressed in the Norwegian attire of his father's heritage. He played the piano, and he was extremely competent - never missed a beat or a note ... nor did his siblings on their stringed instruments. Such a special gift to our Christmas eve services.

We left just after communion, when the service was nearly over, and headed to Hope United Methodist in RB, and enjoyed being there, as well. It's interesting that after the wonderful music program at Mt. Olive, Hope's music seemed almost ordinary, but it was thoroughly enjoyable. Hope had a wonderful young tenor, though, and he has a lot of promise. His voice was strong and pure. He sang Ave Maria, and his melody seemed to be somewhat flawed. I hope this young man, perhaps in his early to mid 20s, continues to train. Tenors usually mature in their late 20s or early 30s, and this fellow could give Josh Grobin or any of the current popular classical singers a real run for their money.

Musicians are a wonderful gift to the church! I am always blessed by experiences of good church music, such as we experienced at both churches last night. The musicians and their music made it a real Christmas for me.

I'll post the final batch of Christmas pasts photos today, because tomorrow will be the start of a new year for me, even though New Year's is a week away. I'll start cleaning up pieces of projects I've left laying around, books I've half read, to do lists scattered here and there, and get organized to begin again next year. My Christmas starts at Advent and ends the night of the 25th. The journey of the Wise Men, for me, is the beginning of something new and wonderful, and I want to take that journey in my life as soon as Christmas day is done. It's time to move forward.

So, here they are:

1971

Scampi's in this one, so I have to assume we bought her in 1971. She was such a bundle of sweetness, and so protective. She didn't like anyone getting close to her family, and she'd nip at them.

And she would rough house with you, Donna. Do you remember when you and she were rolling around on the floor and you called her "Chump," and she bit you on the arm? (You were older, then - in fact, it might have been after we moved to California, and you would have been an older teenager) That was so funny!

You and Den, in your picture above, look like you're about ready to burst into orneriness! This might have been the year that Den tossed Scamp in the bathtub with you, put a paper cup down the toilet so that Dad had to totally remove the commode to clear it, and whatever orneriness he could think of. Ah, I loved it that we were a real, normal family. Too much perfection, and I would have known you two weren't my kids! I have such memories!

1972


Both sets of grandparents, along with Uncle Steve, visited us that Christmas. I remember my Mom's big bee hive hair dos. She loved dressing up and fancy. She always had marvelous taste. She could never figure out how she birthed a plain Jane like me, but she took it in good stride. I saw another older woman with her mother at Hope last night, and for a few moments, I thought about Mom and wished I had her with me this Christmas. She and Pop went to Hope for a while before they settled into their long and warm relationship with the Baptist church here in Poway.


I'll finish up with pictures of our extended family for Christmas that year, including Scampi, and of the four of us.

Those days were rich, golden days.

Merry Christmas. May there be many, may they all be merry, and may they provide wonderfully warm memories for many, many years!

On Christmas Eve: T'was the third day of Christmas

1970


Every family has its holiday traditions. We pick and choose from our parents' traditions and create some new ones of our own. One of our traditions was to open presents at night after we came home from church. When you two got bigger, we'd have Christmas as a family, and then we'd often tuck you both into bed and we'd slip over to the 11:00 candlelight service.

Church was a big deal for us as a family. More often than not, I was involved as the organist or choir director, and sometimes the children's programs, and you two always had something to do in the children's program. Those were fun (and sometimes hectic years), but they are among the best memories I have of our young family.


Christmas morning meant getting up to chop and dice onions, celery, and other vegetables, mix the stuffing, and get our turkey in the oven. All the while, you and Den - and often your other playmate, Dad - were in the living room testing out all the new toys. Dad was the biggest kid of all and he loved those toys.


I remember the year we got an Atari pong game. He played late nights, after you two went to bed, for weeks before Christmas. He did the same thing with our first Nintendo. It's a wonder most of the toys weren't worn out before you two got to open them at Christmas. I think we have a Fisher-Price garage in the picture here.

Remember when we used to go to the mall on Friday nights? We'd go to the pet store and the toy store there. I think we all always enjoyed toys. I still find myself migrating to a toy store if I see one. We used to have one here in Poway, up until it closed a couple years ago, I visited there every few months.

We certainly enjoyed the pet store. We got our precious little Scampi at the pet store over at the mall during one of our Friday night excursions. (You'll see her when I post 1971 pictures.) Did Dad bowl on Friday nights and that's why he didn't go with us? Or was he traveling? In any case, he never wanted pets in the house, but after Scampi, we always had at least one - and guess who they liked best! Dad!!


Even though the new toys didn't get worn out before Christmas, sometimes kids did. It seemed that Den could drop to sleep wherever he was. We always got a kick out of the places we found him napping. Neither of these pictures was taken at Christmas, but as I was browsing through our albums, I spied them and couldn't resist including them. The one on the left was in 1970, and the one on the right was in 1971.

And then this one is my all-time favorite! Usually it was Den climbing in bed with you at night, but this time, i think there was a storm going on, and I came in to check you two before I went to bed. It was all I could do to suppress my laughter. It still brings a chuckle to me.

It's Christmas eve for us now. I've been sewing all day, making some shopping bags for Satos and for Steph & Scott. I finished Satos, and I made huge progress on Steph & Scott's. I'll be able to finish them tomorrow so I can give it to them if they can get down this week or stick them in the mail if they don't.

Dad and I will be having supper shortly and then getting ready for church. We're going to go to Mt. Olive's 7:00 and then to Hope Methodist for 9:00. Church is still meaningful to us on Christmas. Children grow, parents and grandparents age and pass into history, but church is our constant now. It's a good thing!

It's Christmas day for you and your family. I hope it's a blessed time as you're together. I know you miss Stephie and Scott, just as I miss you all; and I know Erica brings you a new kind of joy!

Love,

Mom and Dad!

T'was the second day of Christmas (photos for Donna)

Part two of Donna's Christmas present from Mom and Dad!

1966

In 1966, there we were, the three of us in our new apartment in Cape Canaveral. We were all so pleased to be together, weren't we?

I have pictures of you in your very own room, with all your toys and things. And we have videos of you outside the apartment, jumping up and down while you pushed your dolls in a baby buggy. And there are pictures, too, I'm sure, of swimming in the pool.

We were all living our dreams!



We always had lots of toys and things under the tree at my house when I grew up. Grandpa and Mammy lived close by, and they contributed to the piles of things that waited for us Christmas eve.

I don't think Dad had ever had a Christmas like this one, and I think it shows that he really liked our kind of Christmas.

1967

I know there are albums (or pictures in boxes) that I don't have at my fingertips, because we never missed taking tons of pictures at Christmas - and at birthdays, too - I came across pictures of every birthday you had back in those days, but not all the Christmases. 1967 seems to be missing, but I'm pretty sure there are pictures of us somewhere, with me wearing a pink crepe long-sleeve dress that I'd made, loose around the waist to hide the little baby bump that was growing there.

1968

Here are a couple pictures of our 1968 Christmas. We were in our new house on Anchor Lane - the house we lived in the rest of the time we lived in Florida.

Although the picture I pulled of me for 1966 doesn't bear any resemblance to Stephanie that I can detect, I sure see flickers of Steph in this picture of me with you and Den. Isn't it funny how shades of family resemblances show up at different times in our lives?

Look at your eyes and Den's. I think both of you were looking at the same thing, and it wasn't the camera. Hahaha!

Over the years, we blended traditions from both Dad's and my growing-up years and incorporated a few new ones just for the four of us. I'm sure you and Todd carried over traditions from your own growing up years and made some new ones for yourselves, too. How fun that is!

Next time I'll post pictures from 1970 and 1971. It might be a day or two, but keep checking back. I have some pictures from 1972, too, but I'm going to have to dig (and remember) for years after that. I've found several different pages of photos, but I'll have to do the math to see if I can match them up to years.

What fun this is. I guess this is proof people do go back and look at old photo albums. I know we do from time to time; and this time, I've found a really good use for them. I'm so glad we still have so many where I can find them!

Still even more love....

Mom (and Dad)

Merry Christmas, Donna ...

Listening to carols this morning while I was sewing, my mind began to wander to Christmases past, and I found myself reaching for old photo albums to see what I would find. This is for you, Donna, the first of several as I post some old pictures. May these pictures warm you heart, and may that warmth spread to your whole family as you remember these wonderful moments - so that each of you is blessed!

1964

This first part is Christmas 1964 and 1965. I found only one picture to post from 1964 (there are probably more somewhere else), but I thought this one says it all. Once you were born, you were the apple of Pop's eye the rest of his life. When you were small, he would take you shopping and buy you everything you even thought you wanted! He doted on you, for sure! You gave him so much happiness.

Of course, there was another woman in his life, and I'll have a picture of her in the 1965 group of pictures!

1965

You and I had Christmas at Gammer and Pop's in 1965. We were still "single" that year.

It was the year Judy and Jerry became engaged. I think her ring was in that candy box. I'm pretty sure I have a picture, somewhere, of her holding it so we could see it, but it's not in the album I'm working from.

And here's a picture of that other woman in Pop's life - Gammer! Pop didn't need an excuse to kiss Gammer, ever, but this time I was able to get a photo of it. I think this picture sums up their entire nearly 60-years together. During the last year of Pop's life, Gammer slept in the room next to his, and she said she would wake up during the night and there was Pop, just standing there gazing at her. Such love!

And in the meantime, your soon-to-be new Daddy was having Christmas at his parents' home in Minnesota. He and I were playing a cat and mouse game over the phone, seeing who would hold out the longest in popping the question. I think I won and he popped the question, but maybe it's because I goaded him into it. :-) But it wasn't too long before we made some definite plans to stop the courting game and get onto the marriage and family game.

It wasn't at Christmas, but it was a few months after that, in April 1966, that your new grandparents traveled from Minnesota and then made a special trip through West Virginia, on their way back, so meet and hug their new granddaughter.

I think you can see in this picture of 1965 that your Dad was straining at the bit to be a father. It's obvious that he loved kids, and I think he figured if he married me, he could become a daddy right now!

Such a romantic, your dad! He had no idea, did he, how much work being a daddy could be! But such fun. I wondered some times if he didn't marry us just so he could have more kids to play with. I'll show you a picture of what I came to think of as our three kids when I post the 1970 pictures.

April came, along with your new grandparents. You can tell it's an instant match - they were just waiting for you, I think! They loved you even before they knew you.

Next will be pictures from 1966. I hope these little memories make your Christmas bright and merry!

Love,

Mom (and Dad)

Lauren's present to me, quilts, and cappuccino (latte?)

I was just sitting at the sewing machine, sewing together the strips I cut out this morning and minding my own business, and in walks Lauren with his little thumbnail drive telling me he has some pictures for me. Well, we've had so many pictures over the last couple weeks that I can't imagine what he has, but curiosity gets the better of me and I find myself plugging the thumbnail in an open USB slot.


Look at this! This is from our front yard! Every day when I go out there, I say either to myself (when I'm alone) or to Lauren (when he's with me), I need to get a picture of that. I love the leaves! They remind me so much of my childhood.

I grew up in an apartment building on Indiana Avenue, in Charleston, but not far away was Elkview where my grandparents lived. I spent a lot of time with them; and in the fall, we would always gather up the leaves in their apple orchard and they allowed me to jump in them and make a big mess. Sometimes, Grandpa would load a bunch in the wheel barrow and then put me in on top of them, and he'd push me around the yard. I'm sure leaves and these warm memories go hand in hand in my thoughts.



Interestingly enough, our leaves are from an apple tree, too. Our apple tree isn't nearly as big as the one at Grandpa and Mammy's house, but it is a real apple tree and it produces fruit. Lauren gathers the fruit during its harvest season, and he makes apple crisp for us - and it's even better than his mother's! Like all recipes Lauren adopts from others, he works on them, making improvements until the recipe is his and his only! Yummm! When he has extra, he gives them away. Sometimes he leaves a bag on the front wall near the mail box for whoever wants to take them.

Needless to say, I love Lauren's present to me this morning. He did some weeding, at my request, in the back yard today and then snuck around front to capture these images for me.

We have flowers along our little front wall, too, which Lauren planted. It's amazing to me that we have daffodils right now, but here they are!


I planted some paper-white bulbs in a pot a month or so ago, just for fun, and they're producing the most delightful flowers now.

When a flower blooms, it's like a gift! I am always delighted! Our pinks along the west fence in our back yard are blooming, too. Living in more southern climates has its bonuses, for sure!

I remember (again) when I was young and we lived in a house on the hill in the Montrose section of South Charleston, I used to take walks in the evening, and when it was snowing, I loved the feel of the snow on my face and the way it sparkled in the street lights. And then in the spring, the first buds always made me laugh. For a long time, I missed those changing of the seasons; but in my older years, I have really come to enjoy the benefits of having a garden year around!


After yesterday's fiasco of wasting time trying to create an album of our Israel photos on my computer so I could burn a slide show to disc, I decided I would get up this morning and do something constructive. I'm starting the first of four military quilts whose theme will be strips, just to see how many different ways I can use a limited number of fabrics stripped together. I'm going to sew the strips and then top-stitch them because I worry that these quilts will be tied instead of quilted (lots of sewing on them to hold them together). I think it will go fast. I'm glad to be doing something constructive today! I'll take a little break (as though blogging weren't a break) in a little while and go to the grocery store for some pantry items and then the library and get bag full of needlework books of whatever kind they have on their shelves today.

About the cappuccino, I think I had a success this morning because Lauren liked it. Here's my recipe so I don't forget it and I can make it more than once. (You gotta hate it when you create something someone likes and you can't do it twice because you didn't write it down!)

For two cups:
- About 1 heaping teaspoon of espresso in the espresso maker (this is about half what the espresso book calls for)
- Enough water to make three cups of espresso (one cup is expended for the steam for the milk)
-About 1/3 cup of milk in the metal steamer pitcher
In each of two cups, put:
- About a tablespoon of no fat, no sugar hot chocolate mix (I use Swiss Miss, I think)
- A sprinkle of cinnamon (probably about 1/8 teaspoon)
- About a tablespoon (plus or minus) of honey
Start the espresso (I turn it off and turn the espresso maker to steam when the carafe is about 1/3 full), steam the milk, finish the espresso, pour half the espresso in each cup, and then finish by pouring and dolloping the steamed milk on top. Lightly stir.

I love that European white coffee, and this isn't quite it. I need to play around with some different coffees to figure out how to get that flavor I love. AND, I think I can make Mavash's steamed milk with my espresso machine by not using any coffee when I create the steam. Now talk about Yummm!!!! YUMMM!

I'll post some pictures of my success when I make it next time. This is the first time, ever, that I've figured out how to froth that milk so it looks really nice. I'm hoping I can do it again! I think it was because I put the steaming spout in really close to the top when I started the steaming process.

Back to sewing!!!

Getting caught up?

Well, maybe! But in reality, that never happens.

I've been adjusting my sleeping hours, trying to get back to normal (whatever that is for me). The last two nights, I've been in bed by 8:00 and then up again about 1:00 for a few hours, then back to bed until 5 or 6 o'clock. Eventually, I'll settle on getting in bed at 10:00 and up at 5:00 - my more or less normal schedule.

Poor Lauren. In years past, he would have fussed and fumed and (emotionally) punished me for disturbing his sleep; but after all these years, he's finally realized that sleeping isn't my first priority, and, therefore, I have something of what looks (to him) like a sleep disorder. These days, he just makes a mental note of (ALL) my movements during the night so he can briefly (and quietly) mention a few of them sometime during the next day. But it's rare, these days, that he engages in that horrible scowl of disapproval, blaming me for disrupting his peaceful sleep.

Oh yes, poor dear Lauren. Being married for a long time means that you either accept the habits of your significant other or just give it up and either grumble and fume about it - or learn to live alone. We are most fortunate that we have chosen the former position - we have learned to accept each other.

During my recess from sleeping during the night, I've been working on the Flickr photos for our trip to Israel, and though I've made a lot of progress, I still have a few things I want to do:

- Finish pulling out some photos from sets that are too large in favor of smaller sets (make the collection (album) more granular).
- Add a few more of Lauren's photos which I really like. His eye is different from mine, and he captures some things I am either not steady enough to capture or which I don't see. I like his work.
- Do some documentation on the photos, such as descriptions of where we were, brief history of some of the churches and sites we saw, etc. I'll use my two picture books and the Internet to pick up a few helpful facts.
- Do a brief summary of the album for my blog, with links back to the Flickr pages.

I'm working on my newer laptop this morning because it's in the main part of the house and it's a tad warmer in here. I really should install IE 7. I'm still on version 6, and I miss being able to open multiple tabs in an IE occurrence. Since I'm not working any more - it has been almost a year - I should take this computer over as my personal one. But I've been slow to do that because my little Compaq from probably 2004 has been a wonderful workhorse, and I favor it a lot. It has been nearly around the world, and it still chugs along!

So, on with the show for the day! Here goes ...

A foggy morning ... nesting instincts

There's something about a foggy morning that settles in me and fills my emotional environment with gratitude. Just a glance down my street this morning was enough to trigger an overwhelming sense of contentment.

How appropriate that this is also Thanksgiving week, making a perfect pair of events to bring home to me how very blessed I have been these past 66+ years with such wonderful caring people who I call my own. I am so grateful for family, for friends, and even for casual encounters with some who were close only for moments.

Every life has unsettling events, but to have such a group as I call my family and friends, through all the good and not-so-good times, is really a blessing.

I am thankful. I count myself blessed. And it was the fog this morning that brought it so clearly home to me.

As I work on the new quilt top, I grow more and more fascinated by this stack of strips sewn into blocks. They will take various shapes before they are finally part of the finished product, but this short-lived step seems to be its own kind of art. If I don't become distracted, I will have all these blocks completed this morning. The 9-patches will go fast, and I might actually meet that (laughingly made) goal of having the top pieced together this week. Can't believe (I sewed) the whole thing!

San Diego Fires 2007, and a little bit of normal life

It's been four years since the Cedar Fire (and others) in San Diego, and each October since then, I've found myself getting up in the morning and looking east to see if the fires were coming. This year, looking east didn't provide my warning; but we had plenty warning as heavy Santa Anna winds were forecast for this week. The fires, north, south, and east of us, came along with the winds.

It seemed that San Diego county just erupted in fire on Sunday, triggered by an alarm that went off just as the winds hit the area. It was a Sunday late in October when the Cedar fires came our way, too.

Although we didn't see blazes from views in our neighborhood, we all prepared to evacuate if necessary. RVs began to appear in front of houses as we watched. We had moved our RV to the house on Saturday, preparing for a camping trip to San Elijo State Beach starting on Monday, so we just had to change our minds about what to pack in preparation for possible evacuation.

We packed much the same as last time; but in addition to our laptop computers, medicines, Bibles, my sewing machine, and a few important papers, I packed my collections of threads and fabrics that I've been working on this summer - newly made quilts, quilts in progress, and other things. It was a relief this time not to be employed and obligated to deliver work product to others who were far removed from the situation. I was able to let my alert systems concentrate only on what Lauren and I needed. We started packing Sunday afternoon; and because our alert systems were generating a good flow of adrenaline, it was after midnight before we went to bed and to sleep.

We were fortunate. We weren't evacuated, although we spent Monday night in the RV in a shopping mall's parking lot, just a few miles down Poway Road. People had been evacuated a mile away from us; and because we live in an area that has only one road out, we decided we should just get out of the way in case the fire came down into our little cove during the night. It didn't.

Fire does not discriminate, and it is unforgiving. It has whipped its way along the mountain tops and down the canyons, picking and choosing what to devastate. There's little the fire fighters and other disaster personnel can do at the onset of such a fire storm except to try to get people out of the danger area and help them get their most precious things, from livestock and pets to precious pictures and memories.

The Internet and cell phones are wonderful things. Donna, sitting thousands of miles away in Dumaguete City, was continually in touch with Stephie & Scott, Pat and Bill, Jana and Josh, us, and other people they are close to. They were able to watch our local TV station, NBC 39, stream the same information over the Internet as we saw on our own TV screens, just seconds delayed. Amazing! Our world is so connected now, and there's a lot of good in that.


Among the things I packed in the RV, in case we found nothing to come home to, were the shopping bags I recently finished. I was able to send a pair off to Judy & Steve and to a dear friend of mine this morning. Last week, we got a big box off to Donna, too, and it seems to be a relief on my mind that those things that have been sent away from us, things I intended for others, are safe.

It's funny the things one worries about. Normal worries seem so trivial. The blue and pink flowered bag is destined for a personal delivery to a friend of Mom's here in Poway.

I knitted a purse to felt last week. Here it is in its unfelted condition. When I start feeling calmer inside, I'll stick it in the washer a few times and see what happens. This is made from Paton's Classic Wool (Merino) and it's readily available here at the local craft shops.

Yesterday, after we came home from the shopping center parking lot, I tried to settle myself down by watching old Law and Order and Murder She Wrote shows - my normal routine for at least part of the day when I'm knitting or crocheting. I started a lacy shawl, and I worked on it until I went to bed last night. It took a long time to understand the instructions because my mind just didn't want to settle down. I think I have a better understanding of it now, so I'll take a try at it again today and see if I can get enough done to see the pattern start to develop. It's been a long time since I did anything with many yarn overs, ssk, or sk2p kinds of things.

We will stay quietly at home today. We had thought of going to a movie, but I don't think we're settled enough now to want to be away from our home turf for very long, yet.

Our hearts go out to those who will have to have other living arrangements for the foreseeable future. I can't even fathom it. I hope they are overwhelmed with goodness from others during their period of loss.

The garden, the quilt, the heat, the podcasts, the movies, and aging

We are in the throes of our hottest months of the year - August and September. We have danger warnings this week, with temperatures reported, by Yahoo, of 94 degrees. That means it's knocking 100 and maybe plus here, at least in the sun. Our actual temps are always higher than the reported-by-Yahoo temperatures. It's worse in other parts of the nation; but we expect this each year and it's simply a matter of preparedness and an expected lifestyle change for this season. It gets up to 90 degrees in my little non-air-conditioned porch room where I sew, so sewing is generally a morning-only activity. Where heat isn't expected and prepared for, people suffer and become ill - and sometimes don't make it!

The plants are so thirsty after sitting in the searing sun. On days when the sprinklers aren't scheduled to run, I give them a good drink with the hose. I water a few of the plants daily, even though they receive the sprinkler water, either because they are new (two hibiscus plants) or are in containers (my basil, for one, and a few others).


This year, we have a couple Amerias - one pink and one lilac - for our summer garden. I don't recall if we've had these before, but even if we have, I don't think I have ever examined them for their unusual blooming patterns. I was deadheading them a few weeks ago when I discovered that I needed to look carefully to see which stems had bloomed and which hadn't. These pictures aren't very good, but here's a pot of Ameria's. Notice the fuzzy one in the red circle (I used auto focus with my camera and realize I shouldn't have done that). That's a flower that's in the process of blooming. It looks pretty much like a flower that has already spent its bloom.

These flowers start out like many others - a nice little ball with the flower inside, rising on its stalk. When the ball opens, you see the inside ball with many sections. Each of those sections contains a tiny bloom! I'm probably doing a very bad job of describing it, but the whole thing just makes me smile. What a wonderful invention! I am humbled to see such a thing! Wikipedia has a tiny article about them at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armeria.


To illustrate the size of the pod of flowers (yes, one single pod), I'm holding one here.



I am finally on the last border strip of the big quilt. I have two sides done and two more go to - 107+ inches per side with a small meander. Although I haven't counted, I know that I've used more than a dozen spools of thread since I started the quilt. Lots and lots of stitches; lots and lots of thread; lots and lots of hours. Here's the kicker on this next to last step, working this border - I can't see where I've sewn on the multi-color brown/black/gold border! I have to keep lifting my pressure foot and shining a light on the fabric to see where I've been and where I need to go. Ah, I don't think there's any way around it. Even if I had used beige thread, as I did on the main body of the quilt, I wouldn't be able to see it. Even something like bright red wouldn't have made a difference. Moral to the story - just remember that unusual fabric for quilts may present some challenges. Notice that the moral isn't to use unusual fabric, I must just remember there may be a cost!


Here's a corner of the border, just to keep the historical record in tact!

In the meantime, I have thoroughly enjoyed the Issues, Etc. LCMS podcasts and have learned a lot about Lutheran theology as it's practiced by those closer to St. Louis than we are. The podcasts aren't controversial at all, but they are thought provoking. I really enjoy them. And then there's The Story (http://www.thestory.org/) podcasts. What interesting stories Dick Gordon finds, what interesting people he interviews. I feel privileged to hear those stories of the lives of other people. I've also listened to some books on tape, and recently borrowed Karen Armstrong's The Great Transformation from the library to put on my iPod. She's such a thoughtful religious scholar. She probably is controversial to some, but I enjoy her approach and realize that she's documenting the answers to her search. I am not offended. Krista Tibbets' Speaking of Faith podcasts are also always enjoyable as she explores many ways people believe.

And the movies! I've begun renting them from the library now, and I watched Mrs. Brown (Judy Dench) twice yesterday. Such a story.

So, patience, Sue! The quilt will soon be done and you can clean the room; in the meantime, there's much to enjoy that otherwise would be missed. There's a whole community out there communicating interesting stories and thoughts.

And speaking of aging. It does funny things to you. Although we have planned (and paid for) the trip to Israel in December and we're really looking forward to it, I've had this knawing feeling of loss as I remember the fun Lauren and I have had taking little risks on our own. I am loathe to give those up. At age 70 - only a few years away, we will no longer be able to rent a car abroad, and that will mean we will be at the mercy of others to transport us around. Not that having others transport us is bad - we enjoyed our tours this year, and they're probably not much more expensive than doing them on our own, but there's something about being together and having to figure things out for ourselves that's priceless for us. So next year, we are going to spend our birthdays and anniversary in Great Britain, exploring England and Scotland. Our first week, starting about April 23, will be on a narrowboat which we will navigate through the Llangollen Canal; the second week will be in Scotland in a town called Aberfeldy, located east of Balmoral; and the third week will be in a town in the southwest of England, in Devon (Exter) near an estuary. God willing, that is! As long as He is, we are. We're not going to volunteer to stop until we have to!