Wisteria and Roses

CELEBRATE 2012

2012-01-02T14:16:00.000-08:00

My new year has begun and I am awash in stored-up-for-pondering moments: The parties and gatherings strung day-to-day as jewels about my heart, a precious necklace, a gathering of sweet-sweet gifts. I reaped quiet joy from all the parties thrown, invites accepted, hospitality served, moments shared.

All Good.

All Merry.

All Bright.

A Serendipitous Treasure Trove.

Caves filled with glowing gems

Surprise the happy wanderer,

Whereas stock returns

Merely mop the sweated brow

Of an anxious investor.

Treasure delights the heart

In ways that a planned heist never can.

[a page from my journal]

* * * * *

I guess my greatest lessons of 2011 involve the washing away of tallies from yesterday and To-Do lists destined to harness today, leaving the day’s blackboard open for spontaneous doodles, unexpected love notes, and serendipitous moments of pure joy.

I found a lasting souvenir of serendipity from 2011 on a day-trip into The City (San Francisco, of course) during post-Christmas week:

A thoughtfully planned itinerary blew away in the winds of mayhem and mobs of merry-makers filling the streets, shops, and restaurants. Missed turns and clotted intersections met us at the city gate (Golden, of course), and forced me surrender my “plan” for the day. I shrugged and danced along, sometimes being dragged, pushed, or prodded. I played along nicely and actually found it freeing and fun to just go from here to there without a schedule. We would see what we would see and it would be enough, I kept encouraging myself.

We encountered cable car madness as we attempted to board and ride down from Union Square to Ghirardelli Square for dinner. Throngs of people, some disrespectful of lines (and sometimes manners) thwarted our efforts for over an hour. I began to grumble. I grumbled again when we finally secured outside bars here and there around the car, separating our party into single entities hanging outside the car. Hrmph! Not the plan!

When the car lurched forward the grumbling stopped as a giggle of sweet anticipation rose in my throat. I looked across the car to my brother-in-law and saw his formerly furrowed brow relax as his grip tightened. My sister, up ahead two bars, turned and flashed a wide grin. I couldn’t see Gary for the obstructing brake man, but I trusted he held fast up near the front of the car. Lurch! The adventure began.

My grumble turned to humble as I noticed the sunset hues spreading ‘cross the skies. Pink and lavender and gold flowed in and through the bluest of blue. Quilted clouds perforated by the golden good-bye brought tears to my eyes. The seeping fog blanketed the Bay, enveloping Alcatraz in quiet beauty for the right-sided riders to revel in, while we on the left had a stunning farewell symphony from a glorious day in The City. The mist-chilled air rushed past, planting kisses upon all cheeks turned to the wind.

The car climbed up, up, up, whizzed down, down, down, careened around corners, and slipped deftly past twin cars passing close. “Lean in!” yelled the brakeman as I yearned to lean out and catch a passing hand. “Hold on!” He bellowed amidst the screeching of metal as we turned sharply and climbed higher. Riding an hour earlier would have pre-empted the sunset; riding inside the wooden car would have cut the misty embrace – the waiting brought the beauty that my planned and expected results nearly stole. “Serendipity,” sang the cables under the street. “Enjoy,” squealed metal rails leading us on. “Whee!” laughed my heart as I hung on and let go.

* * * *

“Good bye 2011! You’ve been fantastic!” I sing full-throated. You’ve taught me so much . . . you’ve given me so much and asked for nothing in return. You simply came to me in unexpectedness and left me serendipitous. Most of all you brought me to a crossroads and offered me freedom. Personal keys fitted into personal locks that flung wide the iron bars from a heart now free to love and live and laugh most wholeheartedly.

In 2011 I threaded my timid fingers through the bold hand of the Lord and set out across a scarred landscape without a map. Finding my way through forests of forgiveness, over mountains of challenge, through valleys of despair did not discourage me because each step of the way I found beauty, unexpected beauty everywhere. The burdensome molds of expectation coupled with the painful scalpels of perfection proved too heavy to heft up and down and all around this madcap journey without a map . . . so I dumped them and embraced the moment fueled by spontaneity. If my foot got stepped upon I winced, forgave, and moved on without hesitation toward the music, eager to dance despite the smarting reminder that I had just been trod upon. Serendipity met me and provided refreshment. 2011 felt good.

Slipped on easily like comfy favorite slippers and a soft flowey skirt, 2011 was simply made for dancing. And I danced regardless of the music.

My resolve at the dawn of 2011 to live in Serendipity flushed the pipes and set me on a wild and delightful adventure. Gone the days of tense list making, meticulous evaluations, and intentional harnessing of details ensuring expected results; replaced with:

FREEDOM

As I let others be free,

running true to themselves despite expectations,

So I let myself run free . . .

AND I LOVED IT!

Most notably I drink in the freedom of living side-by-side in love without the demand to do, be, give, make, supply. Loving someone does not command one to meet their every need. I can love freely. Just love. Love doesn’t come with a price tag or a To Do list or even an apron string . . . it simply comes.

Love shouts “Boo!” from around the corner ahead.

Love rings the doorbell unannounced.

Love plants a kiss on a cold cheek and flushes it warm.

Love dances with Serendipity, making a fabulous couple.

Love is.

* * * * *

Still dancing to the joyful chorus of Serendipity echoing from 2011,

I resolve to carry forth the loving and

CELEBRATE

in 2012.

Having tossed out intentions and expectations in 2011, I favor the random spilling and splashing of goodness and joy and sweet, sweet love as it overflows the banks of one life and floods its neighbor nourishing them today. Jesus promises tomorrow will take care of itself (Matthew 6:34) and God will take care of me (Matthew 6:30), so I am free to love . . . simply love . . . obedient love.

This is my commandment,

That you love one another;

Even as I have loved you.

John 15:12

Here it is seen that he loved us and did everything for our benefit,

in order that we may do the same not to him,

for he needs it not,

but to our neighbor.

This is his commandment,

and this is our obedience.

Christ helps us, so we in return help our neighbors,

and all have enough.

~~ Martin Luther ~~

* * * * *

“. . . who is my neighbor?”

Luke 10:29

* * *

And Jesus answering said,

A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.

Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?

And he said,
He that shewed mercy on him.

Then said Jesus unto him,

Go, and do thou likewise.

Luke 10:30-37

* * * * *

December 12, 2011

Note to Self:

Forget about the myth you have created wherein your whole family gathers together to celebrate Christmas. Remember, Mary and Joseph left family and journeyed far before they experienced Christmas.

In a makeshift “home”

Surrounded by those who followed the star

(Their only connection)

They celebrated Christmas.

Animals, shepherds, wise men, precious gifts,

All melded into an expression of answering a call.

No one expected.

No one forced.

It just happened.

[A page from my journal]

* * * * *

Though I haven’t packed a single map or directive to carry forth,

I am more than equipped for the journey into 2012

Because my heart brims with 2011’s gift of Serendipity.

So, I’m off!

Here I come!

Are you ready to

CELEBRATE 2012

with me?

: D

Sunday Wonder

2011-12-25T00:01:00.000-08:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Now the God of hope

fill you with

all joy and peace in believing,

that ye may abound in hope,

through the power of the Holy Ghost.

Romans 15:13

For Unto Us a Child Is Born

2011-12-24T01:32:00.000-08:00

How Sweet the Gift.

Hallelujah!

Simply Christmas

2011-12-20T10:43:00.000-08:00

Holiday To-Do List (update):

SIMPLY CELEBRATE

For it is good to be children sometimes,

And never better than at Christmas,

When its mighty Founder was a child himself.

~~ Charles Dickens ~~

But Jesus called them to Him and said,

“Let the little children come to Me,

And do not forbid them;

For of such is the kingdom of God.

Luke 18:16

I have found a deliciously quiet moment – a moment without an activity or a preparation for an activity or the jammy-seeking tiredness that follows the close of an activity. You know of what I write: parties, teas, performances, crafts, table settings, dish washings . . . the list trails off in a delightful peppermint-stripe of fun and frolic as we gather together to celebrate the beauty of our happy walk toward Christmas.

Though I do nearly nothing in the way of shopping conventionally, I do go all out in flinging wide my door to gatherings big and small. A friend drops by to deliver goat’s milk because she was caught in a traffic jam when Gary came by to purchase and I put on the kettle. A delightful time strolling through the gardens (unseasonably warm and still in bloom here and there), followed by a fragrant gathering in the tree’s glow as we sipped strawberry-vanilla tea and nibbled at some dark chocolate became a gift. She pronounced it the nicest tea she had ever had – did I mention she’s a garden gal who loves the outdoors more than I? I’m sure her teatimes generally include a mug in hand taken to a bench under the fig tree. To simply sit and chat and sip proved a gift to all of us, as my girls gathered around eagerly. Girls-and-tea-and-such just happens spontaneously around here, while the boys snicker from another room or pass on through swiftly, pausing for a sweet and portable treat before vanishing.

Speaking of treats, tomorrow a dear friend-like-a-sister and her daughter-like-a-niece will be joining us for a Cookie Day. Gingerbread and Sugar cookies will spread out in all directions and the frosting-sprinkles-candy-sweets will rain down in happy abandon. By afternoon’s end we will have decorated, sampled, dressed up, and even dropped a few of the plethora baked in anticipation. Like Santa’s elves we will create magic and then we will send them out on plates for this neighbor or that, to friends here and there in our town, taking care to reserve sufficient supplies for our own holiday merrymaking. My sister arrives on Christmas Eve, thus missing this event, but we will surely duplicate it while she is here. You can never have too many cookie days, can you?

For those of you that know I tend to “healthy eating” and whole-food mania, you can rest assured that I have fortified our family body with ample broths and meals in prep for the sweet-treat onslaught. White sugar and flour will be welcomed for the season as I have yet to find a suitable “sugar” cookie made from coconut crystals and whole-wheat flour – but I haven’t stopped looking! I had thought of sharing from my treasure trove of sweet, simple, and healthy recipes for parties, but as time has slipped and I have sought serendipity over stress, that post will have to wait for another day.

As I gently roll my mind back over the past year I smile and celebrate the word “Serendipity” – my chosen word to guide 2011. At so many unknown turns in the road called 2011 I fell back on my special “word” and let the stress roll on by, murmuring gently to myself, “We’ll see . . . we’ll see what God has in store.” Though I could seldom find a rhyme or reason for some of the stuff, I did find comfort and pure joy in leaving off the stress of trying to control it all. I simply rode the waves and laughed (between screams) despite the raucous ride. I held tight to those I love and reminded myself to breathe as life’s coaster dipped and whirled and navigated the loop-de-loops set squarely in my path. Whew! It’s been quite a ride, and I’m ready to board 2012 with equal delight and anticipation. In fact, I tasted the sweetness of freedom with such relish this past year that I have already chosen Serendipity’s close friend as my word for 2012:

Celebrate!

Not being one for surprises, I have decided to unwrap the gift of “Celebrate” early and put it to good use right alongside “Serendipity.” So, if you stop by this Christmastide don’t bother looking for me on the fringes with a bedraggled smile and a load to carry, I’ll be the one right by the tree with a cookie in hand and a teapot at the ready. Serendipity taught me that life doesn’t need my fears and worries in order to find the joy; in fact, they obscure the way and siphon the energy that is better used for broad merrymaking than for sweating small details. Opening up the heart and hands, throwing wide the doorway to possibility, and letting expectations blow away has blossomed into a truly wonderful year filled with simple moments of unexpected joy. Please join me in Celebrating all that will come to us and upon us this Holy Season of the gift of great joy for ALL people.

* * *

Now, if I don’t manage to find my way back here before the special day arrives please accept this as my special gift:

From My Family to Yours

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

* * *

* *

Sunday Wonder

2011-12-18T00:01:00.000-08:00

And the angel said unto them,

Fear not:

For, behold,

I bring you good tidings of great joy,

Which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day

In the city of David

A Saviour,

Which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you;

Ye shall find the babe

Wrapped in swaddling clothes,

Lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel

A multitude of the heavenly host

Praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest,

And on earth

Peace,

Good will toward men.

Luke 2:10-14

My Holiday To-Do List

2011-12-15T20:38:00.000-08:00

Live Simply.

Love Generously.

Care Deeply.
Speak Kindly.

Leave the Rest to God.
~~ Ronald Reagan ~~

13 on the 13th

2011-12-13T23:32:00.001-08:00

* * *

How quickly you went from this

To this

From here

To here

Catapulting to 13 in no time!

(Simply amazing!)

HAPPY

13th Birthday

Rachel!

* * *

How short the days are long

How fast the days of slow go away

So I'm wading right in

Playing your games

And I'm running the full length . . .

By your side

Dayspring Music, LLC (BMI)

Sunday Wonder

2011-12-11T00:20:00.000-08:00

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea

in the days of Herod the king,

behold, there came wise men
from the east to Jerusalem,

Saying,

Where is he that is born King of the Jews?

for we have seen his star in the east,

and are come to worship him.

and, lo,

the star,
which they saw in the east,

went before them,

till it came and stood over
where the young child was.

When they saw the star,
they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.

Matthew 2:1-2, 9-11

Respite Wednesday . . . uh . . . Thursday

2011-12-08T10:31:00.000-08:00

The days flow rapidly one into another around here due to the many parties, performances, more parties, more performances, more . . . well, you get the idea.

A whirlwind day-trip to LA for a tree-trimming party provided loads of fun and pure exhaustion. I came home determined to R-E-S-T in the brief window until more birthdays and other holiday fun pop up on the calendar. The phrase Too Much Fun comes to mind but I quickly whisk it aside as I do the kermit-cupcake-crumbs and the popcorn kernels evidencing the steady merry-making around here.

Here in the quiet of the morning, a little thought keeps swirling around in my head as I plan, prepare, and promise more things for the holidays:

Be the gift

I sit back quietly with teacup in hand,

I close my eyes so as not to see

the overly-scribbled calendar notations,

"Be the gift," sighs the morning fire.

I sweetly think of the best gifts I've ever gotten for Christmas.

True to proverbial wisdom, the best gifts were not things at all.

"Be the gift," my still heart croons.

Hearkening back to last Sunday's evening cantata

wherein Lydia performed O Holy Night,

(Now THAT was a gift, indeed!)

I flashed a smile to the organist
as the lights flickered the audience to be seated.

Later, the organist asked my daughter to convey
thanks to me for the smile --

"Most people don't even notice me,
let alone smile at me," she offered.

"Be the gift," my journal notes.

The gift of :

a smile

a hug

a wave

a cheerful greeting

free

readily-available

much-appreciated

Be the Gift

Celebrate in a truly old-fashioned way,

Remembering why we say

"Merry Christmas"

Remembering why we gather together, gifts in hand.

For God so loved the world that he GAVE his only begotten son

John 3:16

*Be the Gift*

Tea with a Friend

2011-12-05T23:01:00.000-08:00

The other day, whilst pruning back my garden, I dithered with myself in God's range as to whether I should return to the bloggy world. I missed that funny sort of virtual thingy that has brought so many new friends into my life. I questioned myself about time and presence and came to no solid conclusion save the one I always found at the end of this conversation; namely: "You'll know if and when the time is right."

So, I finished the pruning, went in for a cuppa tea, and stopped thinking about blogging. When next I checked my email I found a lone new comment left upon a distant post. It read:

I miss you Debbie..

I wish I could come visit,

we could chat over some hot tea and a cookie or two..

I hope you are well!

Dear sweet Elizabeth, busy mom of five from the other side of the US, had written to me . . . missing me. A tear sparkled in that knowing little way as my heart whispered, "It is time." Thank you, Elizabeth, for letting me know.

And so once again the kettle has begun to sing here at Wisteria Cottage amidst the familiar clatter of blue willow teacups placed onto a tray as I ready for the first of many chats together with my sweet friend(s).

But, Elizabeth, before the chatting can commence I simply must know . . .

Gingerbread

Sugar

Cookies?

: D

Guess Who . . .

2011-12-03T19:25:00.000-08:00

Turned 22

12/02?

My Darling (Kermit-loving) Daughter,

Elizabeth.

(Check out her blog for some fun pics through the ages.)

Oh So Sweet!

2011-09-21T00:12:00.000-07:00

Happy 16th Birthday,

Sweet Lydia!

Being In a Summer's Day

2011-07-11T12:18:00.000-07:00

I do not write in my journal.

My "gift" list lies fallow.

Blogger has not seen me.

I am silent in ink.

Yet in life . . .

I laugh

I love

I cook

I dance

I play

I read

I rest

I celebrate nothing special . . . for it is ALL special.

* * *

Have I poured out all I have to give/say/write?

No.

Has the well run dry?

No.

Rather . . . I feel as if I am on holiday --

a great glorious spate of time devoted to simply being . . .

. . . at play

. . . at rest

. . . at table

. . . at ease.

It feels so good to enjoy each simple moment, be they devoted to:

peeling a cucumber,

slicing a tomato,

hearing a harp/flute duet played in the music room,

reading slowly in a hot afternoon,

sipping a summery banana-pineapple-coconut smoothie,

simply being at summer.

"Remember," whispers the ink pen.

"Capture," croons the paper.

I reach for my journal

and smile

at the thought of another

bliss-filled summer day

ripe for the picking,

sweet to the tasting.

How's your summer going?

Did You Ever . . .

2011-07-07T14:01:00.000-07:00

S-L-O-W your reading

W-A-A-A-A-Y D-O-W-N

So you could live beside the characters just a bit longer?

* * *

Did you ever . . .

Fall so deeply into a book

You thought you could be living inside of it?

* * *

Have you ever met Hannah Coulter?

* * *

Can I introduce you?

* * *

Everyone should know Hannah.

* * *

Amazon Link: Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry

Some Pics to Share from Our 4th Celebration

2011-07-06T09:59:00.000-07:00

Curious about our menu?

Check out

www.pursuingajeffersonianeducation.blogspot.com

for all the delicious details.

: D

Happy Birthday USA!

2011-07-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

Sunday Wonder

2011-07-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Wait on the LORD:

Be of good courage,

And he shall strengthen thine heart:

Wait,

I say,

On the LORD.

Psalm 27:14

Summer Storms = Reading Fun

2011-06-28T20:57:00.000-07:00

After I finished tidying the cottage today, the BIG storm rolled in. It has proven less-than-BIG, thus far -- a few BOOMS now and again, but all in all it has been a pretty nice rainy day. The gardens love soaking up the moisture and we love the care-free watering method God designed.

Since this cool day landed smack in the middle of some pretty warm days, we all welcomed it.

As I put the vacuum away, I asked Elizabeth to set the teakettle to boiling. I fixed tea trays for the studious ones, Lydia and Rachel, with bread-butter-strawberry jam and a hot cuppa African Nectar tea for each. Elizabeth and I shared a pot of Honeybush tea while we settled in for some rainy day reading.

I looked with delight on some of

my newest reading arrivals:

Anyone see a theme?

I think I shall call my summer reading

"Delicious Inspiration."

And it has been . . .

What are you reading/eating these days?

Thousands of Words About Summer

2011-06-22T14:50:00.000-07:00

* * *

Summer has finally arrived here at Wisteria Cottage.

We welcome you to

settle back into the comfy wicker,

nibble a lemon bar,

inhale the sweet fragrance of wisteria,

and spend a summertime moment with us.

These pictures make words unnecessary . . .

don't you agree?

From our cottage to yours:

Happy Summertime!

Sunday Wonder

2011-06-19T00:18:00.000-07:00

And the earth brought forth grass,

and herb yielding seed after his kind,

and the tree yielding fruit,

whose seed was in itself,

after his kind:

and God saw that it was good.

Genesis 1:12

Fairytale Cooking

2011-06-14T22:17:00.000-07:00

Go out into the gardens

(beautiful flowing dress and dancing slippers optional)

Gather fragrance-bearing beauty with abandon

(organic only, please)

All colors

All shapes

All beautiful

Then . . .

Shed the petals

Pour into a bowl

Add boiling water and steep for six hours

(Be prepared to relax and enjoy the amazing aroma)

Drain and reserve the rosewater

~~ a shade of pink I can only call LUSCIOUS ~~

and cook as you would any jelly.
(recipe link below)

Ladle into jars and cool.

Stand back in amazement at the beauty . . .
then taste

(preferably dolloped onto a freshly-baked scone).

And They Dined Happily Ever After

* * * * *

Find an inspirational post with recipe here.

(I just LOVE Mia's blog!)

A Blogger Comes to Call

2011-06-13T21:33:00.000-07:00

You think about it . . .

You wonder what it would be like . . .

You wish for it . . .

. . . even pausing to pray about it . . .

And then it happens –

A blogger comes to visit.

A blogger from Down Under steps out of the virtual realm into reality . . .

And it is WONDERFUL!!

I had SO MUCH FUN when Kylie came to call.

I hope to return the favor with a visit . . . to Sydney

I’m thinking about it . . .

I’m wondering what it will be like . . .

I’m wishing for it . . .

I’m even starting to pray about it . . .

And maybe it will happen . . .

: D

For now I’m lacing up my blogger-dancing shoes
and preparing to blog again.

It’s been a while . . .
but the visit with Kylie reminded me
what it was all about . . .

FUN

and

FRIENDSHIP

and

SHARING

It's all good!

Hatch-Day Video!

2011-05-31T15:27:00.001-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjCJY5WTLN4

Happy Hatch-Day!

2011-05-31T13:12:00.000-07:00

After faithfully sitting for 21 days, Mama hen hatched all six of her eggs!!!

May Moments

2011-05-23T17:12:00.000-07:00

How the time does fly! I have been so consumed by all the projects I have failed to stop and share them. Since a picture is worth a thousand words . . .

The Birthday girl holding a bouquet of beautiful roses sent by her sister.

Bob, the crow master.

My big chickies!

They are getting so beautiful.

Cucumber cage.

Corn cage (left) sugar snap peas (right).

Basically everything on this side of the yard has to be caged off or it becomes chicken snacks.

My over-achieving radish.

Tiny salad sprouts!

Baby basil.

Melons enjoying the sun.

Greenhouse!

I can't wait to get everything in the ground!

Tomato.

Freshly-tilled (we got a rototiller!!!) earth ready for planting.

Yaaaaaaaawn!

Homer is an Anna Hummingbird who lives here all year round. Someday I hope to get a picture of him in the sun where his bright green body and deep pink face really sparkle and shine.

Happy May Everyone!!!

He is not here, for He is risen . . .

2011-04-24T00:15:00.000-07:00

In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to see the sepulchre.

And, behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.

His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow:

And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men.

And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified.

He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.

And go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead; and, behold, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him: lo, I have told you.

And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy; and did run to bring his disciples word.

Then the eleven disciples went away into Galilee, into a mountain where Jesus had appointed them.

And when they saw him, they worshipped him: but some doubted.

And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth.

Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:

Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you

always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.

Matthew 28:1-8, 16-20 (KJV)

Happy Easter Everyone!!! Have a beautiful and blessed day!

Delightful Digging Day!

2011-04-19T21:50:00.000-07:00

What a wonderful day! My mind and soul are refreshed from digging, raking, and shoveling (though I must admit my muscles and back do not share the same enthusiasm).

Around midday the sun steadily shone through the cloudy sky, drying the night's dew and warming the temperature enough for the chicks to go outside. As their confidence (and size) grows, they have become very discontent living in the brooder.

As I watched them run around chasing bugs and scratching the dirt, I was inspired to do the same . . .

If you show up for a visit while I am working outside, 85% of the time I would be wearing this: Boots, worn-out green hoodie, $1.00 thrift-store jeans (made back in the days when denim was real hardy stuff!), and work gloves, of course.

Rachel, my hardworking helper

Two of the Marans

All of the chicks found our digging a strange activity;

but they really enjoyed munching on the bugs and worms we unearthed.

One of the not-so-little earthworms we dug up

We also uncovered two Southern Alligator Lizards. We have them all over the yard. They hang out on sunny pathways and leafy/rocky areas. We even have one that lives fulltime under an artificial rock protecting an outdoor outlet.

Break time!

The day’s final product

This still has a couple days of tilling needed, but a grand improvement from when we started.

Hopefully the next update will show a beautiful vegetable garden where this barren spot now resides.

Quite a productive day, though I think I will rest the body tomorrow and prepare for a full workday again on Thursday!

Cabin Fever.

2011-04-15T14:45:00.000-07:00

Clouds, clouds, clouds; grey, grey, grey. Winter’s cold cloudy grasp is starting to wear away the hope of spring, and I have contracted a case of cabin fever. This ailment has been affecting the bigger chicks as well as the human inhabitants of our home. They have taken to playing peck-the-little-one, not a game I approve of at all. So Rachel and I hauled them outside for some run around time . . .

They had a fun time, and we certainly enjoyed watching and laughing at their bathing rituals, just proves rolling around (or digging in) the dirt is a great cure for winter weariness.

Westport Beach.

2011-04-14T14:47:00.000-07:00

At last, pictures from the family's trip to Westport Beach! Enjoy!

Mmmmm, s'mores.

Twirling!

"Let's go fly a kite. . . "

". . . up to the highest heights."

“The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
Writ in remembrance more than things long past.”

William Shakespeare
(King Richard the Second)

More Snow!

2011-04-13T10:17:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I discovered the first seedling peeping through in the greenhouse; today brought another batch of fluffy flakes.

Elizabeth

Rooster Sledding.

2011-04-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

After reading about my feelings for Bob, mom said I should show how ferocious this creature really is . . .

. . . well, he is a pretty menacing creature, except towards Rachel. Since Bob was a small chick (back when “her” name was “Bossy Britches”) Rachel would hold him and carry him around. To this day, Bob puts up with being carted around to Rachel’s many activities; including sledding.

Elizabeth :)

Happy Sunday!

2011-04-10T16:40:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth :)

Spring?

2011-04-08T16:04:00.000-07:00

With the family’s return and the arrival of warm weather, Rachel and I sat down to my laptop to place our chick order. Gasp! Oh no! The one breed I really wanted, the old-fashioned, excellent, chocolate-brown egg layer Marans, had been sold out for the entire 2011 season!!! After moments of disbelief on my part, and some quick thinking on mom’s, she called the local feed store and discovered they still had Marans, so off we went before they too were gone. We returned home with our new brood of five twelve-day-old Marans, and five twenty-one-day-old Red Sex Links. Unfortunately, the Americanas mom wanted (and has been wanting for a couple years) were sold out locally, so back to the laptop we went and ordered five Americana pullets which should be arriving via post sometime in the next two weeks. :)

Chicks first visit outside.

Black chicks, Marans. Yellow chicks, Red Sex Links.

In addition to expanding our poultry population, the girls and I have filled our greenhouse with seedlings. Well, actually they are pots of dirt with seeds in them, but they hold all the hope and promise of turning into tomatoes, onions, peppers, and many other delicious things. So with the chicks warm in their brooder and the seeds snug in their greenhouse, what a perfect time for a little . . . snow! While the calendar declares spring has arrived, Mother Nature calmly refutes with fluffy white flakes. Now I wait, and send fervent pleas heavenward for the fruit trees; if the blossoms freeze, we will have another fruitless season. :(

For now, I will retrieve the sweaters, read about living in sunny Italy, and pray for spring!!!

Elizabeth

Spring?

Home Again!

2011-04-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

Saturday evening the family rolled down the driveway and filled the quiet house with the lovely sounds of chatter, laughter, and the general noisiness of people I had missed so much. Everyone had a fun time and they told me all about their adventures over my hastily prepared pasta dinner. I received a phone call an hour previously saying they would be arriving home hungry, thank goodness for pasta penne, tomato sauce, mozzarella, sliced veggies, and a pretty place setting; nothing turns food into a feast like cloth napkins and candlesticks.

I plan to post pictures of their trip this week in between the garden tasks Rachel and I have set on our calendars. I promised her when they got back (and if the weather remained warm, which it has!!!) we would place our chick order and start the seedlings in the greenhouse. Hurray for Spring!!! I am so ready to pack away the sweaters and stick my hands in some warm black dirt.

Elizabeth :)

Home Alone . . .

2011-04-02T00:04:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone, this is Elizabeth!

The weather here has gone from snowy and cold, to warm and wonderful. My family has taken a motor home trip to the coast for a few days; the sea air should bring them all home refreshed and ready for spring. I had a call from dad this afternoon, he said they have a site right next to the beach and the weather is "good," which I choose to translate as perfect. He did have one complaint; sadly, it isn't quite windy enough to fly the kite Rachel took with them. While they are gone, I get to hold the fort down here . . . alone; not something I've had to do very often . . .

At 21 years of age, you would think I'd have spent more significant amounts of time alone. Actually, a more accurate statement would be staying home alone. When I was sixteen the whole family minus me went on a week long trip to Yellowstone and Mount Rushmore. I stayed because the trip conflicted with the start of some classes I wanted to take at the local JC, and then I wasn't really alone as I had a grandparent living nearby who was chauffeuring me to and from school and spending parts of the day with me. But this time, three days, two nights, just me. It is not as scary as I remember, I learned the first time round that the house likes to creak and groan for no apparent reason, but this time I have a new fear . . . Bob the Rooster!

I hate to admit it, but that rooster scares me! I am perfectly willing to scoop poop, gather and wash eggs, and even lock them in at night, but letting them out in the morning is a whole different task. Normally dad lets them out in the morning, and when he is away Rachel fills in; as I have yet to convince dad to invent the automatic chicken coop door (wouldn't that be cool!) I have to do it. You think after a long restful night’s sleep Bob would greet the person who lets him out with some appreciation, instead he generally crows, chases after the hens, and then charges the person who just released him from confinement. Bob has had a beef with me ever since that fateful flea powder treatment followed by several de-spurring sessions; then again it could be from the time I hit him with a golf club . . . well, he started it! Whatever it was, I keep my distance. So I have adapted a series of steps to successfully let out the chickens without confronting that rooster.

Step 1) Arm oneself, I find a broom or umbrella are the best protection (not a golf club!)
Step 2) Set up the plank and unlock door.
Step 3) SlideopendoorshovedoorontoroofturnandRUN!
Step 4) Pray you did step three correctly or else you will have to go back and fix whatever didn't work.

Only when I reach the pathway to the house do I turn and make sure the chickens are successfully pouring out of their coop, you could say it is my "Sleepy Hollow Bridge." So far this has provided freedom from conflict with that pompous bird, but I still hold out hope for an automatic door someday.

Have a nice weekend everybody!

P.S. Sorry for the lack of pictures, the family cameras also went to the beach :)

The Voice of Japan

2011-03-28T10:47:00.000-07:00

This email from my dear friend Himo speaks volumes about the need for prayer in a land so devastated:

Hi Debbie

Thanks for your email. We are fine as usual and spending our daily life as well. But we have so many problems day by day. A biggest problem is an unclear power plants. It made water pollution till around Tokyo area, and vagetables, milk by radioactive contamination, power outage till summer or next winter?!

And of course, quake dameged area is still not recover, homeless people are 32000, 10500 people died, 17000 people missing. That area is still cold weather, so people do their best, but it`s been so hard life, so they must be bounds, limit,,,

I just hope that Japanese government does everything right away,,, I can`t image how much time and money we need, I just want to give up everything if I had such a sad happened, just no hope, can`t image our future,,,but we have to build up our future!! Our economy is an uneasy emotion by elecronic power, well anyway a little bit panic all over Japan . . .

* * *

Please continue to hold Himo, her family, her nation in our prayers.

Hear my cry,

O God;

attend unto my prayer.

Psalm 61:1

Where Quiet Bloggers Go . . .

2011-03-24T14:21:00.000-07:00

Someone recently remarked that they had my blog figured out. She boldly stated, “You blog when you are happy.” I laughed and wondered how I had left such an impression on one who sits with me in real life and witnesses the beauty, joy, and true happiness I enjoy every day. As we sipped tea, listened to the girls share their gifts of music, and laughed recounting life’s goodness I tried to explain that I do not go away from the blog to sulk, but rather to think, live, be, and learn. Sometimes I feel called to share the pages of this life’s journal; sometimes it is enough to simply write in my journal or think or just sit. Sometimes I am called to be quiet. Quiet is good.

Sometimes I find my joy

In laughing out loud

Sometimes in quiet.

Still . . .

I count it all joy.

The following pages of my journal filled from my overflowing pen this morn. Maybe this will help my friend see that a quiet blog does not mean a disquieted heart.

* * *

3-24-2011

These morning hours of quiet, prayer, study, and writing enrich my life like a frame setting off the canvas upon which God/Christ/Spirit paint me . . . my life . . . my message to the world.

“Essential,” I write, knowing that a day (such as yesterday) without this quiet beginning lacks something vital, like bread baked without salt (an oversight I commit when baking under hurried or distracted circumstances). A day without quiet contemplation resembles a salt-less loaf over-risen becoming full of air, splitting at the edges, losing beauty, tasteless, blowsy and frail . . . in short, unsatisfactory to serve. It falls to bits when the knife comes, rendering it useless save for breadcrumbs; even then it must be dried out to be of any use. How sad to see a loaf set aside while still fresh and warm and eager to be enjoyed. Patiently the crumb dries and waits to be ground into meal that will shore up a heartier fare such as ground beef destined to become a succulent loaf – the centerpiece of supper. The breadcrumb sees her vital role even if she has been hidden away into a new kind of loaf. Others may not see her, but she is present and presently used.

Proverbial, prophetic, poetic.

Scripture (Matt. 5:13) calls for salt to season life, to add flavor, to preserve with integrity. So what of the unseasoned? Unsavory? God finds use for the salt-less loaves, does He not? Surely He has taught the housewife all she knows, had He not? Ground to meal, salted and seasoned, ready for use in a new way she gives to life.

Some disparage my choice to forgo accolades from lectures given in Ivy-ed Halls in favor of hearth-side service. Where once I dreamed of audiences vast for my excavated treasures, I changed course and followed God’s call like a desert Amma. In quiet surrounds I pray, read, write, learn, teach, nurture, give, live, love.

My life exceeds my dreams.

My loaf of life is seasoned, leavened, baked, and served

by His recipe.

And it is good . . .

albeit quiet at times,

like when I am chewing a big mouthful of Daily Bread.

Glimpse of Grace

2011-03-21T06:35:00.000-07:00

Inside the Cocoon at Wisteria Cottage

Sunday Wonder

2011-03-20T09:18:00.000-07:00

Ye have not chosen me,
but I have chosen you

John 15:16

* * *

We praise God not to celebrate our own faith

but to give thanks for the faith God has in us.

To let ourselves look at God,

and let God look back at us.

And to laugh,

and sing,

and be delighted

because God has called us his own.

~~ Kathleen Norris ~~

Amazing Grace

Please Pray . . .

2011-03-11T16:32:00.000-08:00

Please pray for my dear friend-like-a-sister in Japan. Himo is currently safe with her two children (daughter Mayu, 12, son Riku, 9) in southwestern Japan, but her husband Hiroyuki is stranded in Tokyo.

I met Himo when she was 13 and a foreign exchange student to the US staying with my inlaws. That was 23 years ago. Since then she has been to visit me several times but I have yet to make it to Japan to see her. (Oh, how I wish I would have stored memories of Japan seen through my own eyes before this tragic quake!)

Please keep the Kishikawa family in your prayers as we all join hands and hearts to pray for Japan.

Thank you.

Still Life

2011-01-27T10:07:00.000-08:00

* * *

Stand in awe . . .

Commune with your own heart . . .

and be still.

Selah.

Psalm 4:4

* * *

Respite Wednesday

2011-01-26T10:33:00.000-08:00

One Thousand Gifts arrived for me in the mail recently.

Guess what I am doing?

* * *

[L]ife change comes when we receive life with thanks

and ask for nothing to change.

~~ Ann Voskamp ~~

One Thousand Gifts

A Note-able Love

2011-01-20T14:28:00.000-08:00

When I got married, a lovely friend of my mother-in-law-to-be hosted a very special bridal shower for me. In and amongst the piles of kitchenware, linens, and splendid refreshments, she devoted a few moments to remind me of the love that had brought me to this place . . . this time . . . this anticipatory portal in life. She pulled out several anniversary cards her beloved husband had given to her over the years. Despite the passing of years he never failed to fan the flame of pure, sweet love that captured the heart of his girl.

As the hostess read the melodious Hallmark poems set into brushstrokes of serene settings, my mother-in-law-to-be leaned over and chuckled to me, “You won’t be saving anniversary cards from Gary. He’s not like that – not sentimental at all. He’s just like his father.” This little divulgence caught me off guard, because up to this point in our relationship Gary had showered me with cards, letters, and little love notes that she obviously knew nothing about. (Why should she?)

She settled back onto her sofa spot, smiling with joy that soon I would marry a man as wonderful as she had (her son, of course) and would live much as she had . . . with plenty of love but no written record to pull out for show.

I never forgot her well-meant warning; but I filed it away, hoping for something different than she had experienced. Knowing full well (or at least supposing) that once the vows had been sealed with a kiss the “courting” dance mellows to something more mundane, I nonetheless remained romantically expectant as I entered marriage.

Having danced more than 26 years with my same beloved, I can giggle and sigh sweetly, knowing that my mother-in-law meant well, but has been proven wrong about the tangible record of love notes. I have a “collection” of letters, cards, and hastily scrawled notes that I can hold, read, and remember if I so choose. More importantly, my children can open this treasure trove and know their parents as they blossomed from “shy kids” to devoted souls. The tapestry of our life includes pen and ink threads most revealing of a love designed and woven with our hearts and hands – in good times and in bad, though sickness and health, day in, day out.

However, some of the BIG showy Hallmark cards of our first year dating will not be among the be-ribboned packets hidden away among the dedication booties and lace wedding slippers. About a year into our “relationship” (I couldn’t think of a word to fittingly name those early days before you know you have found love) we parted angrily and painfully – it just wasn’t working out like we had expected, so we parted to find the “IT” we lacked. Whereas I cried buckets and stored away all the mementos in a designated cardboard box hidden in my closet, he grabbed up all the cards and “stuff” and dumped it in the trash. Done! HRMPH!

Fast forward a summer’s worth of graduation and travel and new horizons, to where you reach the late-summer reunion between two hearts that couldn’t heal apart. Though she packed her car to travel hundreds of miles away to chase an educational dream, he pledged love – and promised to wait. Miles apart they journeyed together toward “something” that they hadn’t found yet, but just knew had to be there waiting to be uncovered along the way. And it was to be found: True love.

The road from there to here hasn’t been smooth or easy or even “romantic” every day, but it has been constant and real and true. I have a heart and a memory and boxes filled with all sorts of reminders. Just this last Tuesday as Gary rose before dawn to catch an early flight to LA for his “day away,” he jotted a note and laid it on the bed beside me, as he often does. Knowing my penchant for work rather than play, he sweetly penned:

At his prompting, I cast aside thoughts of dishes and laundry, choosing to spend my day ~~working~~ playing in the garden. I had no fear that a sitcom-husband would arrive home at day’s end asking, “What have you done all day? Where’s my dinner?!” I knew my husband would return home weary from a looooong day’s work, but enter smiling as he walked past the newly pruned roses and tilled beds.

“She had fun,” he would smile, sporting a mirror image of the smile she wore earlier as she dug away saying to herself, “He loves me.”

Some day, when I am long gone past the Pearly Gates I hope a great-great-great-grandchild will happen upon these tidbits and tassels that I have secreted away and learn more than a mere photo or a marriage certificate can tell of these two entwined lives.

I hope they will sift through the dried flowers and broken necklaces, and bundles of letters to find the real treaure:

They lived.

They loved.

They

laughed,

cried,

fought,

made up,

danced,

dined,

slept,

woke,

smiled,

kissed,

and on and on the list goes.

They did it all . . .

. . . over and over and over again . . .

. . . day after day . . . .

And it was good.

* * *

Male and female created he them.

And God blessed them . . .

and, behold,

it was very good.

Genesis 1:27,28,31

* * *

Respite Wednesday

2011-01-19T11:47:00.000-08:00

All my springs

are in Thee.

Psalm 87:7

Sharing the Gift of A Thousand Gifts

2011-01-18T12:01:00.000-08:00

More Lessons in Serendipity

2011-01-17T11:05:00.000-08:00

My sister called . . . and we just chatted.

Sweet, serendipitous peals of laughter peppered our discourse as we flitted from subject to subject with abandon.

A trip to Hawaii?

Perhaps.

A trip to The Biltmore in the Fall?

Absolutely!

Christmas together here at Wisteria Cottage?

OH YES! AMEN!!!

We talked of this and that and nothing in particular as our hearts savored the simple joy of just chatting. Serendipity indeed.

* * *

For over a month now my sister has been in the throes of a medical journey to discover the cause of an abrupt swelling on her leg. Our natural flow of cell phone calls back and forth each week became littered with tears and fears and prayers as we tried to avoid talking about pending surgery and post-op recovery, of possible “C” word and chemo, of . . .

of . . . of . . . of . . .

Many times the phone failed to ring, yet an email appeared – it was just too hard to say it.

“We’ll talk soon,” closed the short note.

And we did . . .

. . . but not about IT.

What was the point?

We waited.

We prayed.

I tried not to worry (and failed miserably, but kept trying – practice makes ~~perfect~~ for a looong month of practicing. For me, at least.)

* * *

I jotted notes like:

Buy wicker bed tray and bud vase

Pack “X” and “Y” cookbooks

Order thus-and-so supplements to be delivered to her house

* * *

Tears flowed at each conversation's signing off, lacing the “I Love You” strings ever tighter despite the distance between Grass Valley, CA and Charlotte, NC.

I tucked away some “airline money,” just in case, but felt a tug at my heartstrings over Christmas and sent it all away for poor families to buy farm animals. Was I secretly hoping there would be no need? My prayers and journals hold no clue to such hope, as I poured forth my fears at the feet of my Lord.

“Whatever is true” I wrote firmly. “Now stick to the truth – to what you KNOW and not what you imagine or fear.”

“Today I know of no cause to worry, so worry I shall not,” I forcibly told myself in print and whispers.

And then I would set off to wash and weed and pray and release again the burdens my mind sprouts with such ease.

A writer’s imagination is not gift at times like these;

but a Savior’s soothing words provide perfect panacea.

Come to Me,

all who are weary and heavy-laden,

and I will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28

And which of you by worrying

can add a single hour to [her sister’s] life's span?

If then you cannot do even a very little thing,

why do you worry about other matters?

Luke 12:24,25

* * *

Time dragged its heels. A cold wave took our town by storm. Darkness filled the days with a frozen hue. I clawed for serendipity and came up empty, for it cannot be summoned but only discovered.

I walked. I wrote. I prayed. I cried. I walked some more.

In the gardens I found budding daffodils.

In the coop the chickens broke their laying stay and gifted us with four eggs.

A forgotten CD of Hawaiian music + nature sounds transported a weary one to entertain thoughts of gentle beaches and washing waves in the quiet of an evening.

An email from a dear friend encouraged me to remember that waves may come unaware and sweep us off our feet if we are not careful. A wave of sorrow had swept me up and tumbled me over and over . . . but I came up standing (though sputtering) and breathed deeply the serendipitous sweetness of knowing I can face whatever today brings my way – even if it should entail more loss on this side of Heaven’s gate – for I am not alone.

And he said unto me,

My grace is sufficient for thee:

for my strength is made perfect in weakness.

Most gladly therefore

will I rather glory in my infirmities,

that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

I accepted the gifts of today and stopped fearing tomorrow. I felt at peace. I found that tiny wink of serendipity that had been eluding me,

and it was enough.

* * *

And then the exuberant email came through:

NO SURGERY! NO CANCER!

No need for an unplanned trip out to oversee recovery and further treatment.

The culprit: An inflamed lymph node cluster, most likely from an infected scratch.

The solution: Antibiotics and rest. Nothing more.

* * *

I wept with relief.

She fumed that it had taken a month and several tiers of doctors before somebody thought to give her a simple antibiotic for the infection.

[My sis and I think on different waves. Complementary, I’d say.]

* * *

So now that I need not be packed and ready to jump upon a plane on a moment’s notice, we have cooked up a batch of “togetherness” plans for two more FUN visits this year, always holding out the hopes for three or four or . . . .

whatever serendipitous amount the future holds.

* * *

Is it only January 17^th?

Why does it feel like this year is much older?

* * *

Methinks it is shaping up to be a very interesting year.

Ahem . . . more serendipity, please, LORD.

Lots more!

; )

* * *

[And she leaves to rake leaves,

hoping to find more pretty bulbs in bloom

this sunny, sunny day in January.]

Sunday Wonder

2011-01-16T00:07:00.000-08:00

But the wisdom that is from above

is first pure,

then peaceable,

gentle, and easy to be intreated,

full of mercy and good fruits . . .

James 3:17

Lydia's First Biscuits

The Gift of a New Song

2011-01-13T10:31:00.000-08:00

* * *

I waited patiently for the LORD;

and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.

He brought me up also out of an horrible pit,

out of the miry clay,

and set my feet upon a rock,

and established my goings.

And he hath put a new song in my mouth.

Psalm 40:1-3a

* * *

The only way we can be of use to God

is to let Him take us through the crooks

and crannies of our own characters.

It is astounding how ignorant we are about ourselves!

How many of us have learned to look in with courage?

~~ Oswald Chambers ~~

My Utmost for His Highest

(January 12)

* * *

Blessed is that man that maketh the LORD his trust

Psalm 40:4a

* * *

This is the day which the LORD hath made;

[I] will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

Another business trip, another sweet note. : )

Respite Wednesday

2011-01-12T10:03:00.000-08:00

My Harvest from Yesterday.

[Lemonade, anyone?]

It was true. I was hidden in the secrecy of His protection. He was surrounding me constantly with the work of His love, His wisdom, and His mercy. And so it would be, day after day, year after year. Sometimes I would be preoccupied with problems that seemed to be difficult and seemed to be great, and yet when it was all over the answers that I worked out did not seem to matter much anyway, because all the while, beyond my range of vision and comprehension, God had silently and imperceptibly worked the whole thing out for me, and had presented me with the solution. To say it better, He had worked the solution into the very tissue of my own life and substance and existence by the wise incomprehensible weaving of His providence.

~~ Thomas Merton ~~

The Seven Storey Mountain
(p. 431)

* * *

And thine ears shall hear a word behind thee,

saying,

This is the way, walk ye in it,

when ye turn to the right hand,

and when ye turn to the left.

Isaiah 30:21

Brokenness

2011-01-11T09:29:00.000-08:00

~~Brokenness~~

~~Being Broken~~

I Am Brokenness, Lord

. . . fix me.

I am empty, Lord

. . . fill me.

I am lonely, Lord

. . . meet me

I am sad, Lord

. . . collect my tears

I am confused, Lord

. . . “I Am that I Am”

I am

. . . Yours, Lord.

* * *

The day broke early for me. I tossed from one dream to the next . . . lost passport nightmares . . . ailing children nightmares . . . unrest. I rose in the darkness and found a note from my sweet husband, whose LA-Tuesday business trips separate us by space, but not by heart.

“Have a relaxing day,”

he wrote.

I cry.

Oh, how I want to relax . . . need to relax . . . pray to relax. But . . .

I think I lack the relax “app.”

Oh, how I long to shrug. Yes, shrug – just let things fall away with a flick of the shoulders, a toss of the head. Gone. Next. Aaaahhhhh.

My sweet son Andrew could never shrug. His little shoulders and neck fused so painfully into solid little blocks. He couldn’t even lift his arms. His brain had so locked up those muscles in cerebral palsy’s firm grip. Yet, the clever little boy learned to laugh. And when he laughed he relaxed – and soared.

He sought and found a fount of joy that carried him beyond the straits of disability. The unleashing came in great peals of laughter; laughter like church bells ringing across a bucolic valley for all to hear and celebrate with him.

I can still hear his guffaws.

His belly laughs.

His infectious giggles.

I want to laugh and dance with him in my arms just once more. I want to feel his velvety cheek next to mine as we twirl and spin and laugh. I want to feel a butterfly kiss once again from lashes so long that strangers would stop to comment. I want . . .

. . . what I cannot have.

I awoke in darkness today. I broke a teapot. I smeared my journal with tears. Is this a good day? Am I defective? Inadequate? Broken? Are you there beside me, Lord? Do you see what I see? Do you feel what I feel? Am I ready to relax? Am I ready to let go? Can I shrug and move along as some have suggested? Do I want to? Must I? Will I lose something if I run from tears and sadness when I meet them along the pilgrim’s path? I wonder . . . Oh, how I wonder . . .

I am always wondering . . .

and I call it prayer.

Some will never understand me, but those who love me do: He who made me, he who married me, they who grew from that love, and those who have melded hearts with me along the way – these gather me to their hearts and love me in an understanding way. My world grows by heartbeats, not shrugs.

I still sit here in this quiet, empty room but the sun has broken the dawn with a watery light that struggles through a wall of clouds.

The silence cracks with the stirrings of the newly-formed day.

My tears have dried, but my teapot lies beyond repair. My arms ache, but my child lies beyond their reach. My tension fades, but I remain unable to shrug. I am created with needs beyond my abilities. My brokenness cannot be repaired by my own hands or skill, but by His love.

To give unto them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

That they might be called trees of righteousness,

The plantings of the Lord,

That he might be glorified.

Isaiah 61:3

Words to Live By

2011-01-05T13:12:00.000-08:00

Hello. My name is Debbie and I am a lover of words. I love The Word (Logos), and I love all the lowercase words (logos) that run around spilling all over the place in conversation and writing and blogging (isn’t that writing? Hmmm . . . sometimes I wonder . . .) and journaling (ditto) and reading – oh ever so much reading.

A friend recently remarked that she brings a dictionary when she sits down to read my blog. Hmmmm . . . I’ve festooned my intro with some of my “key” words of late. They keep cropping up in my reading and conversations and quiet contemplations. As my current favorites, they deserve to dance with all of you in these fresh, new days of 2011. So without further ado . . . I present Chiaroscuro, Serendipity, and Epiphany!

* * *

Chiaroscuro

“The interplay of light and shadow”

Origin: Italian, from chiaro clear, light + oscuro obscure, dark

First Known Use: 1686

(from Mirriam –Webster Dictionary)

* * *

Serendipity

”The faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for”

Origin: from its possession by the heroes of the Persian fairy tale The Three Princes of Serendip.

First Known Use: 1754

(ibid)

* * *

Epiphany

“An illuminating discovery, realization, or disclosure.”

Middle English epiphanie, from Anglo-French, from Late Latin epiphania, from Late Greek, plural, probably alteration of Greek epiphaneia appearance, manifestation, from epiphainein to manifest, from epi- + phainein to show.

First Known Use: 14th century

(ibid)

--------------------------------

The New Year dawned bright and sparkly around here with a fresh blanket of snow glazing everything in a wonderlandesque (made that one up according to my spell-checker . . . and I love it all the more for it) patina of surreal beauty. What a serendipitous peek into 2011. I stood at the window and marveled over the snowfall that the weatherman had not predicted, but had arrived anyway. My New Year’s resolution of living in serendipity seemed so fitting, so magical, so perfectly illustrated . . .

*sweet sigh* . . .

And then I went downstairs to find a storm-tossed kitchen.

I gritted my teeth at the greasy, gunky, lacquered layer of dishes and glasses that I had so freely ignored during the previous eve’s celebrations, not wishing to miss a bit of the serendipitous fun

“Lord, this wasn’t exactly what I expected to find on this very first morning of Serendipity 2011. What gives?” (Yes, I had obviously forgotten the spectacular snow scene just moments before.)

I popped open the dishwasher in anticipation of a load of clean dishes that needed to be stowed properly before I could load the offensive ones in their place. I stopped short as the door lowered – the hollow washer surprised me. My dear husband had quietly unloaded the clean dishes while he tended the fire in the wee hours of the morn. A smile broke out over my face. *Serendipity* [By definition the joy will be UNEXPECTED.]

Only in the rumpled, tumbled, chaos of life will I find the serendipitous moments I have set out to find this year. A tidy cottage filled with tidy people living tidily will not produce the knock-your-socks-off surprises that serendipity promises. And I crave.

Oh dear . . . my knees began to quake, my hands to shake, and I had to sit down. Was this quest for serendipity going to mirror the experiences I met with while praying for patience once upon a time?

Long ago, newly married, idealistic, and a wee bit frustrated with my own lack of perfection, I set out to pray for patience. In a VERY brief spate of time I received oodles of practice in waiting, with the pinnacle reached on one very cold and lonely autumn night wherein I had the opportunity to wait patiently by the phone to hear whether my husband had survived a fiery highway crash involving his car, his brother’s car in tow, and a semi truck. I had gone to bed that night lonely as Gary had whisked off that day to rescue a brother whose car had broken down hundreds of miles away. No cell phones meant an occasional call from a gas station saying, “Love you. Miss you. Be home as soon as possible.”

Then the early morning hours were shattered by a call from my in-laws. “There’s been an accident . . . fire . . . we don’t know . . . we’re off to the scene.”

Stunned, I cradled the receiver and sat in the dark empty room . . . alone with God. Patience. I needed patience. He delivered. On that very long, dark, and oh so lonely night I patiently waited for a phone call – of news I could not dare to imagine.

Eventually the phone jangled and I grabbed it and held my breath – “Hi,” he said as calmly as if he had just called to ask if I needed anything from the store before he got home. I wept! He chuckled nervously and said, “I’m okay.” And that was enough.

Patience. I’d asked for it. And I’ve never repeated that request. Or have I?

As we compress Jesus’ first two years of life into a 12-day celebration showcasing stable re-enactments complete with gift-bearing wisemen, I tend to forget the timeline. Focusing on the angel-catered moments of brilliance and joy and marvel leave me breathlessly happy each Christmas; but what about the dishes, laundry, fractious relations, glutted schedule, and all the rest? Was there ever a day when Mary washed the soiled swaddling cloths and Joseph shoveled manure while relatives bickered in the background? Was it a bother to move from stable to house between the miraculous birth moment and the epiphanous arrival of the Kings from afar? And along those lines, did the Eastern seekers ever feel burdened, weary, foolish? Matthew 2:10 remarks of their “exceeding great joy” at finding the star once again after departing Herod’s palace – serendipity, I presume.

In the real-life birth-to-wisemen experience Mary dealt with plenty of dust, dishes, and diapers. The angels appeared in heavenly splendor and disrupted the sleepy shepherds on a hill covered in dung and sheep hair and prickly weeds and bleating beasts. The wisemen journeyed long and far with all manner of discomfort caused by leaving their comfortable life and seeking something more . . . something calling from their depths . . . something promising . . .

Here at Wisteria Cottage we celebrated in grand style with feasts and festivities we have all come to love and expect at this most wondrous time of the year. But . . . we also said goodbye to a beloved pet of 14+ years, endured comic-strip family drama, shed tears over the death of a dear man of God, prayed earnestly over a child suffering from frightening seizures, and . . . collapsed broken and confused into the sturdy arms of a Heavenly Father who lifted us and filled us with joy despite it all. Pure, unexpected, unexplainable, make-me-laugh-out-loud gifts of sweet serendipity arrived when we least expected them (and needed them most).

I look back over the waning of 2010 and the dawning of 2011 and I see a chiaroscuro painting – light and dark, shadings and shadows filling the canvas with mystery and anticipation, drama and joy. I have NO IDEA what 2011 holds, but I do know that it promises to be laced with serendipity, epiphany, and chiaroscuro because life is a mess. I am a mess. Underneath all the carefully chosen clothes and words burns a wanderlust of yearning not unlike that propelling the Three Kings to leave it all and seek. I cannot explain it rationally. I feel called, led, prodded into an unknown place – a place I’ve never been before. A place I cannot keep from seeking.

Thomas Merton’s words echo those ringing in my heart:

For it seems to me that the first responsibility of a man of faith is to make his faith really part of his own life, not by rationalizing it but by living it.

After all, these meditations are musings upon questions that are, to me, relatively or even absolutely important. They do not always pretend to be final answers to final questions, nor do they even claim to face those questions in the most fundamental possible terms. But at least I can hope they are thoughts that I have honestly thought out for myself, and that, for better or worse, mean something in my own life and in the lives of those I live with.

From No Man Is an Island (xiv)

This holiday prelude to 2011 has taught me that serendipity lives in a hovel nestled in a dirty valley amongst grubby people and yet her smile brings . . . well . . . serendipity, of course!

The wildflower abloom in a frozen meadow, the sweet breeze that blows in while one cleans the chicken coop, the treasured hug of a child in my arms weeping because they miss the child who has already flown to Heaven (six years and counting -- it never gets easier; it always hurts to be here while he is not . . . he is flown to better . . . so we weep still) – these be the portends of my 2011. Thus I celebrate!

Happy Serendipitous New Year!

May the Chiaroscuro of your life

be filled with Epiphanies of great joy!

Joy to the World!

2010-12-25T00:01:00.000-08:00

A Morning Cuppa and a Christmas Cookie

2010-12-23T12:36:00.000-08:00

Quiet reigns. Peace floods each corner of the cottage. Covers stir. The teakettle sings “Good Morning!” as it does each morn, but somehow it feels different today.

The rains have broken and the sky shines with the brilliance of a sun sorely missed of late. Droplets dance on the barren tree limbs like a dusting of diamonds, while a sprinkling of red berries call birdies to feast with abandon before the next chill wind blows. Like a child, I secretly wish for a “White Christmas” despite weather predictions of soggy at best. The warm inviting sunshine snickers at the thought of snowflakes, but I remain open to all possibilities.

Possibilities . . . such a delightful word, so ripe like a sackful of Santa’s toys or a stable brimming with hopeful celebrants.

Our Christmas celebrations this year remain a mystery of possibilities because I have made good on a promise to open wide to the freedom of serendipity. My New Year’s resolution for 2011 can be summed up in one word: Serendipity. And as has become tradition, I “try on” the coming year’s resolve like a party frock before the big event just to make sure it fits and all. Thus far it fits like a dream! : D

In years past I meticulously planned special moments of joy and fun. This year a tumble of unexpected (and not wholly pleasant) events made planning far too challenging, so I tossed the planning guide aside and decided to try something new: Just go with the flow. Picture a woman slipping off a familiar perch of rock down into a serendipitous raft passing at just the precise moment to catch her up and carry her downstream over rills and curls, eddies and swirls. A bit scary? You bet! Fun? When I catch my breath from too much laughter I’ll let you know. I’ve never laughed so hard, slept so peacefully, eaten with such relish, and danced with such joy. Each morning I arise, put on the kettle, grab a treat (just one won’t hurt a bit), and soak up the quiet time of praise with my Lord, as I await the day’s unfolding with a child-like sparkle in my eye. What will today hold? I have no idea . . . and I giggle. I unwrap each moment like a child beneath a gift-laden tree. Unable to “predict” anymore, I just tear away and take a peek. Truly the adage “Today is a gift, that’s why it is called the present” sums it all up beautifully.

Impromptu dinner parties happen with the laying of an extra placesetting and the lighting of candles. Voila! Instant party! The chili stretches to fill all the bowls like a widow’s blessed oil.

A “Cookie Bake Day” invite to one of Rachel’s friends became a rollicking adventure in cookies, frostings, red hots, sprinkles, and more as her mom decided to stay rather than complete her To Do list for the day. Mixers whirred, tasting tongues lapped up buttercream, and jolly holiday music danced above the sugar-plum elves. We laughed away the weariness we shouldered at the start of the day. As we removed aprons, swept up sprinkles, and collapsed into comfy chairs for a restorative cuppa tea (and a cookie, of course) we KNEW we’d spent the day well despite the fact that our lists lay idle and unmarked. Tomorrow will be soon enough for dusting.

As The Day of Christmas approaches we already have numerous celebrations under our belt. We’ve celebrated St. Nicholas Day and Hanukkah, Santa Lucia Day (Rachel’s birthday) and even watched for a lunar eclipse on the Winter’s Solstice (cloud cover prevented the tiniest of peeks). Premiering films The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and Tron caused our family to uncharacteristically journey to the theaters and don funny glasses. Puzzles and games stack up alongside books and dvds as we play each and every day. Even practice times for upcoming Christmas performances become a celebratory event as I mute the ongoing cd carols and pause to enjoy the heavenly sound of a harp singing joyfully about that Holy Night wherein Away In a Manger lay our greatest gift of all: HOPE.

We have but a few days left till the world explodes in a unified shout of “holiday” cheer, but as usual we dance to the beat of a different drummer (he gets quite a workout around here) and have been celebrating non-stop these past few weeks. I read that it takes 21 days to form a new habit. I think we have just crossed the threshold of day 21 and now habitually celebrate daily. I think I am well on my way to enjoying 2011: The Year of Serendipity. I’m so glad I’ve given this bold resolution a trial run during this advent season. Who knew one could find so much fun and pure joy in each day?

Sunday Wonder

2010-12-19T14:28:00.000-08:00

. . . he that is of a merry heart

hath a continual feast.

Proverbs 15:15b

* * *
I do hope your Christmas has plenty of Merry Heart and Continual Feasting in it as this week rushes by.
enJOY! : D

Another Letter from Lydia

2010-12-17T11:40:00.000-08:00

Dear Friend,

I love Christmas. Every ornament placed on the tree holds some sort of happy memory for my family. We call it our memory tree. All of the decorations are set out and ready to help us celebrate one of the happiest seasons of all.

I’ve been spending several afternoons and evenings behind closed doors making Christmas presents. I always like to make home-made presents for people at Christmas. Normally I don’t really get into doing a lot of crafts or projects, unlike my sisters who always have something they’re working on. But every year in December, I become infected with the wonderful Christmas spirit and my crafty, artistic side leaps into action.

However, one crafty thing I love to do all year round is knit. I like to knit hats, scarves, and I’ve even knitted a purse (it came out little lopsided but I’m still working on those). I first learned to knit a year ago in august. My Mom, my sisters, and I went to have tea with a friend and she taught us how to spin wool into thread and to knit. I did not really enjoy spinning but I fell in love with knitting. I found it difficult at first but after a few days I improved and my project (I started with a scarf) slowly grew. Now I can knit with very little effort and sometimes I can’t decide whether I want to spend an hour knitting or reading.

I also love to read. Two of my very favorite books in the world are Gone with the Wind and Up a Road Slowly. What is more fun than getting lost in a good book? Well, I suppose other people could think of things they would rather do. I even would sometimes rather spend time writing or just daydreaming. Reading novels always encourages me to write, especially when I read books about writers, like Up a Road Slowly or Emily of New Moon. It’s always encouraging to read those books and see that the dilemmas and problems I come across in my writing are normal for a writer and can be overcome. I wonder where these authors get their ideas, what inspires them? I get many of my story ideas from just daydreaming. There is a swing set in our gardens near the pond and ever since I was very little I’ve loved swinging. The motion of swinging and the beauty of being outside stimulates my imagination. I always love to swing as the sun goes down. I like to think about fantasy worlds, days gone by, and days to come. What will the future bring my way?

Sometimes I look forward to falling asleep at night and dreaming. The other night I dreamt I was on the beach right as the sun was setting into the ocean. All of the golden colors, the pink and yellow and orange that lit the sky and reflected on the bluish gray sea, painted a breathlessly beautiful picture that I still see clearly in my mind. I woke up longing to be at that beach, walking barefoot on the sand with the ocean roaring beside me as the sun goes down. Next month, my Mom and Dad plan to take my brother, younger sister, and me to the beach in our motor home for a few days. I look forward to smelling the salty sea, hearing the ocean roar, and watching the golden sunsets.

I wish everyone in the world sweet dreams, a very merry Christmas, and a happy New Year.

Sincerely,

Lydia

I so enjoyed being the hostess at our family's

Colonial Williamsburg table setting

at our church's annual Ladies Christmas Tea.

Sunday Wonder

2010-12-12T10:21:00.000-08:00

And all they that heard it

wondered at those things

which were told them

by the shepherds.

And the shepherds returned,
glorifying and praising God
for all the things
that they had heard
and seen . . .

Luke 2:18, 20

Join others in celebrating the Spirit of Christmas at
Spiritual Sundays.

On a Quiet Hillside

2010-12-06T12:23:00.000-08:00

* * *

The house glows with the beauty and joy of Christmas. A simpler approach this year left some of the glitz and glitter in the box to save for another year. Carols hum dreamily on the playstation3. Last year Gary replaced my 200-disc-changer with the PS3. I pouted and mourned the loss of the familiar but ailing player . . . until I got the hang of the new gadget. A year later I have loaded nearly every cd we own (MANY!) into the slim little box and labeled them by genre. Now with a few button pushes I can choose an artist, an album, a genre, a track . . . the list of options just goes on. My favorite choice? Genre SHUFFLE! By selecting Christmas genre and Shuffle we have every album randomly accessed. It’s like I have my own DJ. It drives my kids a bit bonkers to have a snippet of Handel’s Messiah follow Judy Garland’s Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, but I think it feels wonderful to “shake it up” a bit. It’s like having a smorgasbord of music (and you know how I like choices).

My love of variety spills over into our celebrations as well. No single “Tradition” exemplifies our Christmas. Some years we pick a country and celebrate as they do. We’ve celebrated in all the ways of our ancestors, including: Germany, England, Norway, and France. Other years we agree on a theme such as “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” (Some of you may remember that as I blogged it – see the Christmas archives for some fun photos and reminiscences.) Each year our menus change as do the guest lists, with some years finding me stuffing tables into little-used corners as we accommodate a crowd, while a different year includes a quiet candlelit meal for just this family. Sometimes we dine buffet style, other times in elegant courses of five or six. Whereas the Thanksgiving menu and traditions rarely vary, the Christmas month has no road map. We like the adventure of Christmas as we journey to the Stable each year to pay homage to our King. That has become our sole tradition.

This year we will celebrate without extended family as they all have other engagements. Though we will miss everyone, the gift of a quiet Christmas is a rare treat indeed and we intend to celebrate it joyfully. The early part of the December month hangs heavy with birthdays, teas, and all manner of gatherings, but the last stretch lies calm and quiet like a shepherd’s plain in Bethlehem. The still, silent nights will leave us time to hear and see and receive Christmas as the shepherds did so long ago. I have no idea what will transpire. Will a chorus of angels break through the night sky? Will we be treated to a warm and cozy togetherness such as Mary surely smiled to receive on that birth night so long ago? Regardless the details, our calendar will remain intentionally open to the unexpected, unplanned, and most welcome miracles of this precious season. We shall come to the cradle with open eyes, open hearts, and open days to celebrate the newborn King.

Being largely “unscheduled” this season I have already seen a rare gift in serendipity. At the library’s monthly booksale last Saturday I came across a book of eight Hanukkah tales by Isaac Bashevis Singer. I added it to my bundle; at a mere 50 cents I couldn’t resist the pristine hardcover book with a child’s name self-scrawled on the inside cover. The little book of tales fell among cookbooks, classics, and even a Colonial Willliamsburg Christmas craft book (Lydia’s tea table next Saturday will be decorated in this style – how wonderful to find a step-by-step craft guide for that fruit pyramid we are planning to make). I always find the most wonderful treasures as I hunt the shelves and tables of donated books.

Once home, I brewed a pot of tea and set about sorting and leafing through the stacks of books; like our music, I sort books by genre – how else to find anything in this cottage of books!?! The Hanukkah tales fell into my hands right away and I made my way to the cozy chair for just a peek. I ended up reading some aloud, wiping tears in between the memories of God’s miraculous ways in the life of His chosen people. I had expected an informative book about the events of the temple and the oil and all the other bedrock traditions of Hanukkah, but what I found surprised me: Memories woven across eight nights to inspire families to gather, remember, celebrate, and endeavor to be instruments of God’s miraculous ways.

The recollections of hardship, suffering, loss, grief, and destitution mingled with laughter, games, and feasting all wrapped in the warm glow of candles burning in the window or by the doorway to invite others to celebrate. Memories of a Grandpa played out alongside other fairytale-like miracles of rescue from starvation, loneliness, and even Nazi oppression. Among the tales wafts the memorable smell of latkes frying in the oil. Latkes! Potato Pancakes! Yes! My memories dance with remembrances of Gary’s Grandma Walpus standing over a hot pan frying shredded potatoes into a crispy cake to dress with applesauce.

Though not Jewish, she came from the Old Country (first Prussia, then Germany, now Poland – man messes with borders so often throughout history, doesn’t he?) and brought delicious recipes that she taught to her daughter and even to me, her grand-daughter-in-law. Though there flows no Jewish blood in either of our families, I do have a tiny delicious connection to Hanukkah and it has been YEARS since I fried up a batch.

As I told the children of my potato-pancake memories they begged me to make a batch. (I confess the oil splatter messes up everything and I do not like that – but as the Hanukkah celebration makes oil the star, how can I resist?)

“How about if we celebrate the last night of Hanukkah with some Latkes, eight candlesticks in a row (with one more to do the lighting), and a few more stories from this book?” I asked.

“YES!” They chimed.

“Can we play the dreidel?” asks Rachel, hoping for a chance to enjoy a favorite (and often times ONLY) game played by Jewish children.

(Where will I find a dreidel in Grass Valley? We have but one toystore in town and no synagogue that I know of. Could be a challenge. Hmmmmm . . .)

And so an empty spot on our calendar will become a sympathetic celebration of Hanukkah. I do not know all the details and am not even attempting to celebrate Hanukkah “correctly,” but rather in spirit – the spirit of Christmas that seeks to bridge the world with Peace and understanding; the spirit of Christmas that sent a babe to a manger for all to meet in a common place and find hope, peace, and so much love.

I can already see that setting out to spend these Christmas holidays on a quiet hillside above the fray will yield most wondrous results and memories, and quite possibly add some new traditions to these days as we pause to ponder and wonder and celebrate the God King come to earth as a child: The True Gift of Christmas.

* * *

Until next I write . . . Shalom!

****************

p.s.

I just got home from the local bookseller with dreidel in hand. Much to my surprise I do manage to find everything I need in this little bit of a town -- even a Jewish Hanukkah top! (Now I'm off to read the instructions and practice a bit before the kids discover my success.) : D

Sunday Wonder

2010-12-04T10:12:00.000-08:00

One king held the frankincense

One king held the myrrh

One king held the purest gold

One king held the hope of the world

from One King

Written by jeff borders, gayla borders, lowell alexander

* * *

Do you ever wonder what happened to those gifts the wisemen/kings brought to Jesus?

Did Mary and Joseph use them to finance an escape?

Did they get lost in the shuffle somewhere along the way?

Did they hold onto them until Jesus came of age and then step aside lovingly to watch him share it with those in need?

Were the gifts on prominent display in the rustic village home of a carpenter?

Or did Mary seal them away as a “nest egg” to be hatched upon Jesus’ marriage?

Did she leave the cross on John’s arm that fateful day, returning home to a hope chest wherein she had loving stored those precious gifts, only to hand them over to another Mary for the embalming of this precious son?

Did it ever strike anyone odd that the gifts foretold death?

Has anyone ever gifted a newborn babe with embalming ointments?

Have you ever wondered . . . as I so often do?

*To enjoy a gathering of spiritual thoughts please visit Spiritual Sundays

Christmas Presence

2010-12-01T12:53:00.000-08:00

December has arrived.

Peace reigns in our home.

A gentle transformation takes place around here

as buds of beauty unfurl from roots sunk deep into our hearts.

* * *

“Hush.”

“Listen.”

“He is coming.”

“Prepare ye the way.”

* * *

Preparations begin with flashing needles that knit hearts and hands together for a gift to wrap around a loved one.

Preparations begin with carols in hand and strings tuned up to plunk or plink as a prelude to concerts shared.

Preparations begin with furniture shifted and books relocated to feather our nest with spots for gentle reading this advent season.

Preparations begin to sparkle, twinkle, ring, and sing out with

the joy of the season . . . the joy in the reason.

* * *

“It’s here!”

“Christmas arrives!”

“Get up and dance!”

“Celebrate!”

“Sing sweetly!”

“enJOY!”

“Christ is born!”

* * *

Around Wisteria Cottage the girls plan and prep behind closed doors. “Don’t come in!” I hear as I tap. “Okay . . . you can come in now,” follows a bustling and bundling away of hidden treats. Gary hauls boxes to and fro as Pilgrims pack and leave to make way for the Christ Child. Matthew partners with us in the celebrations as he conquers his autistic need to be alone and joins in the fun as we dance to the delightful Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack (his favorite). I slip off quietly with pen in hand to drink deeply of the peace and joy and love flowing freely in this home. Though great losses have rocked our world through the recent years, a house built upon The Rock withstands the storms; and the family within the standing home rises up to celebrate in the midst of the torrents.

Once I thought Christmas needed to be planned, orchestrated, budgeted, and executed like a battle. I fortified against commercialism and dilution by immersing my family in pageants, programs, parties, and all manner of participation to celebrate the Christ Child’s birth, lest any forget and just make merry. I exhausted myself and often missed the “Peace on Earth” part.

I no longer work to celebrate. I simply do it. I simply pause to ponder all the memories and happiness and sweet joy stored up in our traditions. I no longer fear I will “miss” something as I stop and kneel in the presence of a season filled with so much to ponder. I wonder as I wander . . . and it is wonder-filled.

We call our Christmas tree a “Memory” tree and we laugh and joke and even wipe away the tears as we unwrap each bauble infused with a meaning all our own.

* * *

“Baby’s First Christmas!” . . . we tell our stories.

“The very first ornament mommy gave to daddy before they were even married!” . . . we tell the story.

“The Baby Jesus in the manger!” . . . we tell HIStory.

* * *

I no longer worry about missing something at Christmastime for I know full well that a Christmas without a tree or a wrapped gift or even a Crèche would still fill us to overflowing with pure delight in gathering our hearts together (even distance between cannot deter us) as we celebrate with the true Presence of Christmas.

Sunday Wonder

2010-11-28T07:18:00.000-08:00

And they did all eat, and were filled . . .

Matthew 14:20a

A Letter From Lydia

2010-11-23T12:45:00.000-08:00

November 19, 2010

Dear Friend,

I was wondering who might find and read this letter; I’m so glad you did. I do so love to write letters, there’s something old fashioned and cozy about receiving an envelope, stamped and addressed to me, that always fills me with excitement! Who could have written to me, (of course that question is quickly answered once I read the return address) and what do they have to say? Most of my letters come from friends in faraway places whom I rarely see and their letters bring me such joy and fun as I relish every handwritten word on the page. After they have told me all the news in their lives, I quickly pull out my paper, envelopes, and stamps and spend a good hour or so writing a reply. I include all of the latest news: the new projects we’ve been doing, my younger sister’s latest invention, and I can’t forget to mention the egg count and behavior of our chickens.

After the letter is finished (I give it one last read over for spelling mistakes), I fold it, seal it in the envelope, and address it to my friend, (did I forget the stamp?) and send it off. Like a small child, I grow excited whenever my Dad brings home the day’s mail, in hopes that there will be another letter addressed to me.

As we come to November, letters turn into holiday greetings as we receive Thanksgiving and Christmas cards and yearly Christmas letters. Is it already November again? Thanksgiving is less than a week away!? I’m practically still full from last year’s holiday feasts. How I love to celebrate with food; I have a particular weakness for pies, sweet potatoes, and stuffing, my three favorites. The whole house always smells so delicious on Thanksgiving when my Mom spends most of the day in the kitchen cooking a fabulous meal, and our stomachs, undoubtedly, will start growling prematurely. We are always anxious to sit down, in the same candlelit dining room we’ve eaten in for so many holidays, and give thanks that we’ve managed to control our hunger until dinner. It’s always well worth it.

This evening, we’ve seen our first snowfall of the season. Strange, snow does not usually fall this early. However, strange things have been known to happen around here. I guess that’s just part of my life. My Mom has always said, if someone was to film our life and put it on TV, people would think it was staged. I guess not everyone spends their days chasing annoying roosters and competing in domino tournaments. I sure do (although, I’m afraid of the rooster so I carry a broom with me at all times while shooing him out of the garden).

Wishing all the joys in life to my new friend.

Sincerely,

Lydia