Culmination

While one would think the highlight of a week of hosting graduation guests would be the graduation itself, and while the ceremony did bring tears to my eyes and joy to my heart, the actual culmination of our week turned out to be a relaxed Saturday evening roasting marshmallows and clowning with friends and family.


But the partying started long before the campfire. Earlier in the week Jed celebrated his 20th birthday with his entire family - there are nine altogether - here with our family in our humble abode. Happy Birthday again, Jed!

Caroline, still with an autographed cast on her leg, rocks at Mario Kart! It's something she can do with her new friends. This party reluctantly ended at midnight. We laughed tears out our eyes! Hilarity!


The pup puts up with it all.


Now, back to the s'more-making wild night!


Tom keeps the campfire going while Grace enjoys her first chocolatey, marshmallowy delight. (Sammy waits diligently for droppage.)


Ben knows this is serious business while Cassie enjoys her smushed roasted orb a la cracker.


Andy keeps us laughing.


Abbi, my fellow photog!


S'more expressions...




Caroline finds herself in a sticky situation - she works it out.


Grace ritualistically burns the graham cracker box in a pyromaniacal moment, while Ben gives her bunny ears...


Oh! Glorious Torch!


Smelling of sugar and smoke, faces relaxed from laughter-workouts, bodies invigorated with night air, and spirits lifted on friendly banter we head for bed and sweet dreams.

Last week's partying dancing in my head quietly promises more such occurrences as the new season gets her steam.

School ends. Summer begins.

Let the good times roll!

And So the Summer Begins

On Monday, Caroline played soccer with her team. Halfway through the game, as she maneuvered the ball toward the goal, turning abruptly on her foot, she heard a pop. "I think I just broke my foot," passed through her head, yet her feet kept pace. She made the goal.

And played the entire second half.

From the car's back seat on the way home she nonchalantly uttered, "By the way, I hurt my foot during soccer. I heard a pop. I suppose it could be broken."




She was right. Two doctor's appointments later she now sports a bright blue cast and a grin. Is it the story-for-the-kids-and-grandchildren tale she now possesses which prompts the grin? The relief from the dreariness of the last two weeks of school? The attention? The absurdity of it all? A small movement breaks a metatarsal and thus merits a cast? Whatever the cause she has an inspiring sense of humor. What a trooper!

Today she's content - loves the cast-signing aspect - couldn't wait to get to Shakespeare class. And the cast is only for three weeks should it heal as expected. Afterwards she gets a removable immobilizing boot which will allow the stretching of her ankle now and then.


And so summer begins. On a strange, unexpected path.

We are no longer bored.

Be careful what you wish for.

"Speedy recovery, Caroline!"

45 Life Lessons

A high school friend, Davene, sent me this list today. Elixir! Thought I'd share it with you. Maybe there is something there that will do you good today.

Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio.

"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I've ever written.

My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:

1.       Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

2.       When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3.       Life is too short to waste time hating anyone...

4.       Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5.       Pay off your credit cards every month.

6.       You don't have to win every argument.  Agree to disagree.

7.       Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

8.       It's OK to get angry with God.  He can take it.

9.       Save for retirement starting with your first pay cheque.

10.     When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11.     Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

12.     It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13.     Don't compare your life to others.  You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14.     If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

15.     Everything can change in the blink of an eye.  But don't worry; God never blinks.

16.     Take a deep breath.  It calms the mind.

17.     Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

18.     Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.

19.     It's never too late to have a happy childhood.  But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20.     When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.

21.     Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion, today is special.

22.     Over prepare, then go with the flow.

23.     Be eccentric now.  Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

24.     The most important sex organ is the brain.

25.     No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

26.     Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'

27.     Always choose life.

28.     Forgive everyone everything.

29.     What other people think of you is none of your business.

30.     Time heals almost everything.  Give time.

31.     However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32.     Don't take yourself so seriously.  No one else does.

33.     Believe in miracles.

34.     God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

35.     Don't audit life.  Show up and make the most of it now.

36.     Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.

37.     Your children get only one childhood.

38.     All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

39.     Get outside every day.  Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40.     If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.

41.     Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

42.     The best is yet to come.

43.     No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

44.     Yield.

45.     Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."

Happy Weekend, All!

Sun-day

"Wanna go for a bike ride before church?"

"Yeah buddy!"

Tom got the bikes out of the shed while I packed yogurt, dried fruit, and sunflower seeds for breakfast.

We hit the trail peddling for the river, a bench, and a very scenic sunny morning breaking of the fast.






There is a poignancy to looking at these photos this afternoon. A bit of serendipity all the more cherished after learning at church that an acquaintance my age has a terminal illness. Oh, to type the words, to read the words! What must pulse through the minds and hearts of this kind person, this loving family? There is much unknown. There is much known.

We all end the same. We all hope to have finished our most pressing work which for me is raising the kids. But who ever knows? Who ever knows?

God knows. And we persevere the best we can.

In light of the Truth.

For me, there will be more bike rides, more beach days with kites and dogs and laughter, there will be more yogurt making, flower and vegetable planting with loved ones. Living in the moment, focusing on eyes, and hair, and smiles, and tears. Listening. Lots of listening. And learning together about the One who is the reason for the journey.

And less - much less - carrying of expectations on shoulders meant for carrying joyful dreams.

Summery May Weekend - Day Two

With temperatures around 80 degrees we embrace our first summer-like weekend of the year.

Yesterday was Day Two in our Magical Mystery Tour of Joy. (Is that over-stating things? Do I remain so winter-crusted that I must gush? Yes. No shame here.)

After pushing open both large bedroom windows at dawn, Tom and I crawled back under the covers together - Saturday relaxed - while warmish summer-scented air entered our room and lungs, played with our hair and curtains, and like a tiny fairy shaking dust from her luminescent wand sparked imagination and enthusiasm.

Awakening to a new season.

Pancakes, sausage, and kiwi brunch in the company of two beach-cheeked daughters.

They did the dishes, we headed for the Saturday and Farmers' Markets.

Oh the delight! We bought a blueberry bush and an orange daisy-like plant.

And spring greens by the bagful.

And chuckled at dichotomy in a town known for its politically correct Earth-Respectors. At the hippie-infested Saturday Market, no less.





"Celebrate Diversity!"

Strolling, perusing, jostling, and sunshine.

Then this:





Beautiful morning.

While Tom and I gallivanted, Cassie and Caroline busily carried out a surprise by setting out the summer outdoor furniture including the table and umbrella so we four could have meals on the sun porch while the weather holds. Huge smile from me on seeing that!

After a good night's sleep - windows wide open - today's dawn teases.

Brand spanking new day and I'm ready to open it!

Breather

Too much work and school means monotony and the blahs.

So we stopped for a day.

To play.
































It made a world of difference!

Changing with the Seasons

I'm back. My blog hiatus was short lived, eh. I'm a woman - I'm allowed to be fickle.

A dramatic, life-changing moment shocked me this weekend. My evil was presented to me undeniably, clearly, jarringly, third-person speaking to me, about me, no tree to hide behind, oh my. Talk about a mirror held up before a face. Just what I needed and prayed for. Hurt like hell. Really and truly and pardon the French. (The French get blamed for everything!)

Like a painful birth really or maybe the lancing of a boil. A huge boil. Out oozes the evil for all to see, especially me. My shame felt squirmingly, wrenchingly.

Forgiveness. Starting over with a new mindset, outlook, perspective. Sometimes it takes experience - decades worth - to lay down the situation undeniably. Discomfort. Pain. There it is. Look at it. Feel it. Know it. Helpless to stop on my own because the process wasn't complete. I had to have a pronouncement from someone I trust, someone much wiser than I, someone not in the thick of this - this - this thing that I do.

And pronounce he did.

And there was a loud CLICK in my head. "I get it. Ick. I totally get it. Ugly. Why do I do it? Doesn't matter. No more. What a jerk I have been."

Understanding is the beginning of wisdom is the beginning of repentance, contrition, and change.

Wasn't hard to quit once the full smack-down landed on me with a full body-blow.

Ouch.

And then...ahhhh.

Relief. For all of us.

Hoi Polloi

This blog doesn't fit right anymore. Am I growing? Changing? Or is it just the seasons - of Earth, of my life?

I find myself tugging and straightening and frowning and scratching my head.

I'll probably be back again. But for now I'm taking a vacation from here.

I'll be relaxing over at Heightened Awareness for the summer.

And enjoying the solitude of my private blog and paper journal.

You may bump into me in the real world, too, where I intend to try new things, maybe get together with some of you face to face, and just generally observe and participate wherever the breezes of sunny days and merry moods take me.

I know there'll be many delicious moments spent in my secret places - my secret pleasures and pains - my secret searchings and findings - my secret endeavors - my secret bliss.

(I hope you have a vital secret life, too.)

See you around!

Croissant

When Ben was barely walking I made croissants in my kitchen, in a different neighborhood, in a different town. They were fantastic.

Over two and a half decades later - craving real croissants all that time and never finding satisfaction - I made another batch.

These are better.

These are truly French, except they were made here in Oregon.

By me.

And it took three days.

Today was bake-them day.

Poor Cassie and Caroline walked out the door to their French class just moments before I pulled the flaky rolls from the oven.

Don't feel sorry for the girls. The croissants are safe with me. I ate one for lunch with a small dish of last summer's berries topped with creme fraiche. That's enough. Craving satisfied.





On with the day.

Content.

(Wish you were here.)

Afterglow

Easter lasted five days for us, five days of dearly beloved coming and going, staying and playing, laughing, talking, and doing all those interesting holiday things. Besides the kids and their friends, my parents were here for three days. What a pleasure to pamper them, feed them, get them moving. And the pinochle was AWESOME!

My paper journal writings are a dozen pages longer this morning so my head is blissfully floaty right now, relieved of the annoyance of jammed thoughts and noisy words jostling for position. Only afterglowing ponderings of the last five days swirl amiably amidst the gray matter.

I read this in a book today: Quality is a passion, even a compulsion.

It sums up Tom, the kids, and my perspective of life.

Not that we always achieve quality but we do love it so.

(Right, Sam?)

At three o'clock Sunday morning I couldn't sleep. Excited about Easter Sunday, you see. I flipped open my non-recipe book hoping to read myself sleepy. Instead, I found amongst its pages a random recipe for French Baguettes.

"These look ridiculously easy. Really easy," I whispered aloud to myself there in the guest bed. (My parents were snoring peacefully in the master bedroom, Tom buzzed on the futon.)

I finished reading the chapter only to turn back to the recipe.

"Still not sleepy. I could make these right now and serve them with dinner instead of cornbread. It'd leave the oven open for roasting the vegetables. Fresh, yeasty bread. Good idea. Am I really that awake? Yes. Yes, I am."

So I did it. I made baguettes in the dark of Sunday morning. While the dough rose I sat myself down in the leather rocker and read the resurrection accounts in my Bible. And I cried. And I prayed. And I punched down the dough and formed baguettes. And they rose with the sun which was shrouded in rain clouds but dawn's light arrived just the same. It came and brightened my living room. And my kitchen. And my heart.

Cassie groggily wandered to where I sat meditating. "What are you making, Mama? It smells yeasty. Or are you cooking with wine again?"

"Follow your nose, Cassie. I think you'll be pleased."

She was.

I smiled.

And I wasn't tired all Easter day - but slept well that night.

For a myriad of reasons.

Temporarily Out of Service

Three days of sunshine so far, windows and doors wide open, zorries on feet, flowers popping up EVERYWHERE, Tom tidying the yard, the girls and I pulling nails from building project lumber, squirrels taunting the beagle, symphony of lawn mowers in the neighborhood, weeds sprouting in spite of my cursing at their little selves, soil damp rather than saturated, peat pots on the window sill sprouting garden plants, and blossoming trees joyously waving limb-arms to the heavens in celebration of Spring, of Easter, of Resurrection!

With company coming for Easter weekend my week is full of lists: "Chores", "Menus", "Groceries".

At our noon meal we are reading aloud, Christ in the Passover. Sets the mood for the week.

This is my favorite Holiday. It's the most spiritually meaningful to me and it's easy compared to Christmas or Thanksgiving.

I find myself contemplative.

I find myself energized.

I find myself eager to host my family and friends this weekend.

And I find myself relaxed into the spirit of the holiday.

Happy Easter, everyone, whatever your spiritual leanings.

I'll see you on the other side.