Dispelling the Darkness

When I walked in the Assisted Living Home, Comer and Evelyn were sitting side by side under the entry way chandelier. They were holding hands, looking straight ahead, dressed in Sunday clothes. Evelyn wore a beautiful necklace, and pink leather shoes. Comer wore a sports coat, and pinstriped shirt.Their expressions and posture were poised in expectant waiting.And I was 5 minutes early. I wondered how long they had been sitting there, leaning forward in their seats, dressed in all their finery, waiting.

I smiled when I caught sight of them, so eager for their outing, and waved. Comer, the 93 year old new author of a book of poetry, stood to greet me with a bag in his hand. Evelyn's face broke into a beaming smile of recognition, always surprising me in her struggles with Alzheimers, and threw her arms around me.
"Ready for lunch?" I said. She hugged me tightly.
Comer handed me the bag, "Six of my books, one for each neighbor."
"Oh, they will be thrilled! Did you sign them?"
"I did."
"Well then let's celebrate. How about Kentucky Fried Chicken?"
"Yes," smiled Evelyn.
"Extra crispy," said Comer.
"You got it!"

Our outing was our typical peaceful drive, while balancing fast food on our laps, and meandering through rich people's neighborhoods. Asherel was in charge of the music, and switched CDs from Engelbert Humperdinck to Romantic Melodies from the 50's. Even Comer sang along on a few of them today.

"I got a short story I want you to read," he said.
"Oh I would love to! Are we printing a book of short stories next?"
"Oh no, I don't have but three of them. But this one is particularly poignant. I wrote it years ago."
"What's it about?"
"I'm not going to tell you. You will have to read it."
"Haha! Well ok. Bring it next week."
"I sure will. It is about a Canada Goose."
"Oh, I love Canada Geese!" I said, "You know they mate for life."
"I know," he said, "That's in the story."
"I thought so," I said, glancing in the rear view mirror. He sat next to Evelyn, clutching her hand.
"Did you know Evelyn when you wrote it?"
"Oh yes," he said.
"I thought so."

I remembered my walks to the swan pond this week. I have been going twice a day, hoping against hope that I am not seeing what I am seeing. All week there has only been one swan. One lone swan, where for a year there have been two. I keep hoping I will see the second, hidden behind the brush. The lone swan has not moved from a little feeder island in the middle of the pond. A huge flock of Canada Geese float on the other end of the pond. The swan is all alone. His mate appears to be gone. My heart breaks every time I see him. Swans mate for life too, and his mate is gone.

"I've been editing my second book," I told Comer.
"What's it about?"
"Angels."
"Oh dear, I'm afraid I just spilled my entire drink on your floor. I am making a real mess."
"Don't worry, it needs cleaning anyway. Hey, have you been working on your new poems?"
"I have written 2 or 3."
"Well soon we will be publishing book #2 for you too!"
"Oh no, I'll die before then."
"You just never know what God might be preserving you for," I said.

Sometimes things seem so unbearably sad- old people with terrible afflictions, swans just reaching the age of producing cygnets, and the mate dies...full drinks spilling before we have a chance to sip them. But it is life. It is all part of life. Like Asherel's writing prompt yesterday said, do we truly value what we have not had to struggle to obtain?

Brother John texted me from his flood zone house last night. He'd been looting again, when the sun set.
"Scored a stakmore table!"
"Good for you! This flood is really turning out to be worth it after all!"
"I think tomorrow I'll just go to the Stakmore factory and ask them politely for the things they don't want."
"Haha, with your shotgun in hand?"
"Of course not. Way too noisy. I'll bring the Derringer."
"Got power yet?"
"No, but we ditched the generator and hooked into the neighbor's deck."
"The neighbor's have power?"
"Yep."
Oh good. Then John is not all alone in the flood. The neighbors are there, and they have power and warm showers, and light to cast away the darkness.

2 Samuel 22:29
²⁹ You, LORD, are my lamp;
   the LORD turns my darkness into light.

Blessings abound

There's a reason why moving service men are young and brawny. In case we had any dreams of opening a moving van company, they were squashed after the second load of heavy furniture from Matt's old apartment to his new one. I was happy to help my son and new daughter in law, but I might be past my prime for lifting bookshelves to the roof of minivans. Fortunately, hubby Arvo was with me and he managed to keep us both from being just another statistic, felled by a large couch. I slept like the dead last night though, dreaming about shoving elephants into vw bugs.

Matt hasn't even seen his new home yet. He and Karissa are in Florida for his law internship, but the old apartment lease ended this week in Virginia, and they needed a new apartment for the upcoming year. I don't know how they managed, but they found online a whole 2 bedroom house to themselves in a charming little village near their school, affordable, and signed the rental agreement...all from the comfort of their place in Florida. Just one tiny problem remained - to get the large stuff from the old to the new.

This is why God made mothers. Mothers will do anything for their dear children. And so will fathers when mothers ask them to.

Moving monstrous furniture in as few trips as possible requires exceptional visual spatial skills. After a few disagreements about which direction to shove a few choice items, we managed in just two trips to load, unload, clean the old place, and even get Matt's security deposit back, which was a bonus he wasn't expecting.

And as I stood on their new front porch and looked out, I saw a huge ring of mountains, almost close enough to touch. It gleamed blue and purple through the nearby trees.

How happy they will be to wake up and look out at that every morning! How wonderful to start a new life in such beautiful surroundings. Blessedness abounds, I thought gazing at that mountain.

(NIV)Genesis 49:26
Your father's blessings are greater than the blessings of the ancient mountains, than the bounty of the age-old hills.

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Untying the tether

When I got home from the glorious wedding, the least favorite part of any journey awaited. The unpacking. I hate the unpacking so much that I am almost willing to just throw all the unpacked suitcases in the trash and begin the needed decluttering of our home. But instead, I began the rather depressing task of putting away the 95% clean items I packed and never needed, and the 5% that had to go in the wash which were all I needed to pack in the first place. As this always happens, you would think I'd learn, but no, "Be prepared" is one of my guiding principles and I pack accordingly. I thought of how my son, Matt and Karissa were now off to the honeymoon, to a new life, and I had to try to not interfere, ever. I wasn't even their Facebook friends, though I asked them a few weeks ago if I could be. They never answered. It is fine, I thought, it is the lot of mothers.

As I unpacked, I reflected on some of the highlights of the week. One of the unexpected joys had been towing my niece Caroline in a kayak.  At age 5, she was too young to paddle a kayak alone and I had no tandem kayaks. She watched the others from shore as we left on our kayak jaunts on Smith Mountain Lake, and told me one morning as she walked with me, "I'd like to go in a boat."  I realized that perhaps I could tow her in a kayak tied to mine, at least a little ways. I gave her a paddle and some lessons, and off we went. As it turned out, it was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be and Caroline became my faithful kayak buddy the whole week. We were able to kayak far and long. I gave her a duck caller we keep stashed with the kayak wet bags, and she would happily honk at geese as we chased them across the lake. Sometimes she would paddle. Often she would rest. On our last day of kayaking, she told me she was tired, and at first didn't think she would accompany me. Then, she changed her mind, and at the last moment, decided she would go. She never dipped her paddle in the lake. Instead she lay down in the kayak and I towed her around the lake while she rested her head on one arm and trailed the other in the water.

It is such a picture of motherhood. There is a season when the mother is putting forth all the effort. Saying all the words the child will one day utter, modeling all the behavior the child will someday adopt, guiding in all the life skills the child will one day need. At first, the child just lays back and watches. One day she will take a paddle and occasionally offer an independent stroke of the oar. Ultimately she will captain the kayak alone. That is the day the mother unties the tether, and watches prayerfully as the child paddles to the horizon, the sun casting rays of gold and sparkle across her shoulders.

I finished unpacking, tired and a little dispirited. You know how it is after the rush of adrenalin and joy at momentous events. I went to the computer to begin downloading the hundreds of photos I had taken. As the screen lit up, there was a message from Facebook. Matthias and Karissa Kaseorg had just accepted my request to be their friend on Facebook. They had done so early the morning after the marriage. They had taken the time and effort and thought to grant me this gift of love and acceptance on the break of their first full day of married life together.

Sometimes as children first paddle to the horizon, they wave an oar in the distance, and the mother waves back.

Genesis 40:14

¹⁴ But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness

Grafted In

The magnificent wedding with few glitches morphed into the magnificent reception with a few minor inconveniences....like only emergency electricity at the reception hall and no AC as we all learned how to swing dance in 93 degree southern summer heat.

"Is it all easy now?" asked Jack, my brother in law, "All the hard parts over?"
"Except the mother son dance," I said.
And as my handsome now married son crossed the room and took my hand, the music began.
I gracefully slid into the only dance I know.
"So we are waltzing?" he asked.
"Yes....is this a waltz?"
"No," he said.
"Then let's just sway."
So I swayed to the music with my newly married son.

Maybe other new mothers of married children don't react similarly, but it feels simultaneously unreal and in this blessed case, as though nothing else could possibly have transpired. She feels as inexpressably my daughter and part of my heart as anyone could besides my own three natural children. She has been in a single moment grafted in. I suspect she will make this family tree stronger.

My own people, the Jewish people were the chosen people of God. But the magnificent truth of the gospel is that ayone could be grafted in....and earnestly desired to be so by the Heavenly father. All could adopt His name, and He longs for all of us to wed our souls to Him.... a marriage made not IN heaven, but BY heaven.

We dropped some forgotten items at the bride's house, and my son Matt and his dear wife Karissa waited for us. Then they snatched their items, and hurried off to their honeymoon.
"I love you!" I said, "Call me every night!"
"Uh....no," said Matt.
"Joking!" I laughed, "I'm joking."

Psalm 128:1-6 NIV

Blessed are all who fear the Lord,
who walk in obedience to him. You will eat the fruit of your labor;
blessings and prosperity will be yours. Your wife will be like a fruitful vine
within your house;
your children will be like olive shoots
around your table. Yes, this will be the blessing
for the man who fears the Lord. May the Lord bless you from Zion;
may you see the prosperity of Jerusalem
all the days of your life. May you live to see your children's children—
peace be on Israel.

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Will he remember?

It is good my Matthias is getting married today. I don't think my body could take another night of little sleep. Once he is safely betrothed with all catastrophes dealt with and behind us, he will be off to his honeymoon in Cancun, and I will be off to a long nap.

This morning, I was dreaming for the brief 5 minutes that I think I actually slept and I was remembering the wedding in my dream. Then my mother asked me how did the son and daughter dance go, and with horror I asked, "Was there a reception?"
She looked at me strangely, and my terror escalated as I cried, "There was a reception...there must been. I don't remember it, Mom! I don't remember it at all! I don't remember dancing with my son!"
And I awoke, crying.

In a way, that is what life is like for me. I watched my two grown handsome boys and my nearly grown daughter at the rehearsal last night. One tall curly haired one, the groom, the other tall curly haired man a groomsman, and the lovely curly haired daughter a bridesmaid. When did all that growing up happen? Where was I? I don't seem to be much a part of it anymore. Was I ever? Did I make an impact? Did I make a difference? Will my children one day, when they are surrounded by their own babies smile and remember dancing with their mom?

I awoke from the dream and praised God it was only a dream. I still had a chance, like Scrooge. I could change the future. I could remember at least this moment. There will be too many photographers there to let me forget.

"And you always have me," whispered the still,quiet voice within my soul, "Though you may forget, I will never forget you."

Isaiah 49:15 NIV

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!

Genesis 2:23-24 NIV

The man said,
"This is now bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called 'woman,'
for she was taken out of man." That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.

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Give your hearts a song to sing

I spent the day before the whirlwind wedding week resting. I lay down with my book and even napped. All the packing is done and the car is loaded and ready to carry me to one of the great joys of life- watching my son marry a wonderful girl. I know it will be hectic however, and I thought it would be a good idea to catch up on some resting before I was exhausted. So I spent the day gathering a backlog of peace.

In between my proactive resting, I decided to run out and visit Comer and Evelyn in the Senior Home. I knew I wouldn't see them for at least another week and I had some photos for them of our outing to the restaurant a few weeks back. It had been the only restaurant outing they had had together in a long, long time. I had framed the photos, hoping Evelyn would look at them and remember.....

Evelyn was sleeping, so I just visited with Comer. Visiting with old folk is very restful in its own right, and in many ways more rewarding than a nap. There is nothing hurried about old people. They are often so removed from the rest of humanity, that they cherish every word you say, hanging on every little particle of small talk. Old people really believe that you are worth sitting and listening to. It may be they can do little else, but nonetheless, it is gratifying. I always feel special when I sit and talk with Comer and Evelyn.  Though Evelyn isn't doing much talking anymore.

"And when she does talk," Comer told me, "You can't understand a word she says."
He looked down.
"Is she still singing?" I asked. I hadn't seen them for two weeks between the trip to help Amy in Texas and the wedding prep.
He brightened, "Oh yes! Every word of every song!"
"Can you understand her then?"
"Yes!"
"Well then, keep her singing."
He smiled.

It was fitting that I was visiting this old couple who had remained married for 65 years, on the verge of  witnessing the marriage of the young couple starting this journey. It reminded me that despite the dire statistics and struggles of married folk, some do make it. And some make it with no words left, but with hearts still overflowing with song.

I wish you bluebirds
in the spring,
to give your heart
a song to sing.
and then a kiss
but more than this,
i wish you
love.

Isaiah 62:4-6

⁴ No longer will they call you Deserted,
   or name your land Desolate.
But you will be called Hephzibah,
   and your land Beulah;
for the LORD will take delight in you,
   and your land will be married.
⁵ As a young man marries a young woman,
   so will your Builder marry you;
as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride,
   so will your God rejoice over you.

Eternally Loved

"I know that is my husband in the back seat and I know he loves me...but I am so confused .... I don't know anything else." She paused and then said, "I am eternally loved."

It was a rainy day. I had planned to just pick Comer up from his assisted living apartment, drop him to visit his wife Evelyn at the Alzheimer's unit, and then return when he was done visiting. But I went up with him to say hello to Evelyn, and the whole place struck me suddenly as so oppressive.
"It's raining," I said, "But the Bradford Pear have all burst into bloom. Would you like to go for a drive and go see them?"
"I would like to go for a drive!" said Evelyn, her face bursting into bloom itself.
"I love to go for drives," said Comer, "I loved to do that even before I was unable to do anything else."

A woman passing by on her way out from visiting her husband overheard us and said, "If you want to see the Bradford Pear, go to Wendover St.  They are lining both sides of the road, all in bloom. Gorgeous!"

So we shuffled to the car, and I pulled out my GPS.
"Oh my!" said Evelyn as the GPS began to speak and tell me where to go.
"See Evelyn," I explained, "I just follow this pink line. I never get lost anymore."
So we drove to Wendover. The woman had been right. It was glorious. The Bradford Pear were resplendent, overflowing with blossoms. They met together in an arc over the road. It was like a cathedral- a cathedral of flowers. Evelyn smiled, content and happy.

Then we drove to areas that she had once known. Comer began to recognize where we were.
That is when Evelyn spoke up, "It seems so familiar....but I don't know anything. I am so confused."
"You know you are eternally loved." I reminded her, echoing her own words.
"Yes."
"And Jesus loves you, this I know ...."
"For the bible tells me so," finished Evelyn, her anxious face breaking into a smile again.
"And Jesus loves you eternally. "
"I know. "
"Well what more do you need to know?! "
"That's right," laughed Evelyn.

With each blossoming tree we passed, we tried to name it. I knew a few, but we passed one I didn't know.
"That's a dogwood," said Evelyn.
Comer smiled in the back seat.
We turned into a neighborhood that was tucked away on a steep forested hill. There were daffodils spreading like stars on a cloudless night across the lawn. We slowed down and all of us cried, "Oohh!"
Then we passed a huge stand of bamboo. The stalks were 6 inches around.
I stopped and lowered Eveyln's window.
"It's like being in the jungle!" I cried.
"It is like the jungle," she agreed.
"Would you like to see some wild swan?" I asked.
"I would like to see wild swan!" said Evelyn.
"I am not sure we can see them from the road but let's go look."
Evelyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her hip bothers her for long stretches of sitting.
"Then we can head back," I added, "Would you like that?"
"Yes," the elderly couple said.

We drove slowly by Shadow Lake and there, near the edge of the lake, where my friends could see them from the car glided the swans.
"Do you see them?" I asked, pointing.
"I see them," said Evelyn.
"Aren't they beautiful?"
"They are beautiful," she answered.

As we started back, quiet in our respective thoughts and enjoyment of the beauty of the spring, Evelyn suddenly broke the silence, "I sure have enjoyed this." She beamed at me, with the old Evelyn breaking out of the fog of Alzheimers.

But as we pulled into the Senior Center grounds, she said, "I'm so confused. I don't even remember my middle name..."
"Do you remember your first name?" I asked.
"Yes, Evelyn," she said smiling.
"It is a pretty name," I said, "Do you like it?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well that's good, since it is what you are stuck with."
She laughed.

And I guess that is our choice in many things. If we are stuck with it, it is sometimes best to like it. Or at least to make the best of it. Some of what we are called upon to make the best of stinks. But some of it is water in the desert, blossoms suddenly appearing on barren trees, wild swans making a home in the neighborhood pond, and the memory that hasn't yet died that we are loved, eternally loved.

Psalm 105: 4-5, 12-13, 41-43

⁴ Look to the LORD and his strength;
   seek his face always.  ⁵ Remember the wonders he has done,
   his miracles, and the judgments he pronounced,

 ¹² When they were but few in number,
   few indeed, and strangers in it,
¹³ they wandered from nation to nation,
   from one kingdom to another.

⁴¹ He opened the rock, and water gushed out;
   it flowed like a river in the desert.
 ⁴² For he remembered his holy promise
   given to his servant Abraham.
⁴³ He brought out his people with rejoicing,
   his chosen ones with shouts of joy;

All Creation Is Shouting

We have been gone six days. I never saw a newspaper or watched TV, but I think awful things have happened in Haiti, and probably elsewhere, but until I get over living on West coast time, I don't know if I can bear to read about it. Braving mountain lions on deserted wilderness roads is nothing compared to what the world is suffering.

If you have been keeping up with my posts, you know that we attended my lovely neice, Renee's wedding in the gorgeous mountains of Arizona, not far from the Grand Canyon. Asherel, my dear daughter who would rather eat live rattlesnakes than be trussed in pantyhose and silky dresses was lovely in the clothes that I am sure she will never wear again. Despite my week of intensive training under strict instructions meticulously gleaned from the internet and followed precisely.... my feet still hurt in my high heels and I had to ditch them during the dancing. Much that could go wrong, did, but the wedding was still a celebration of sanctification of two lovely people vowing to endure the slings and arrows of life together before God.

We were staying in cabins on the edge of a national forest, high atop a deserted mountain where celestial stars go to vacation too, so there were billions of them. At 7500 feet above sea level, I quickly discovered there is no oxygen. There is enough to walk if you are ambling, but if you want to run
5 miles, you will require an oyxgen tank and some sort of modern motorized running shoes. I struggled up a very steep hill, with even the red whites of my eyes turning blue, and gasped finally upon the level deserted path of the wilderness. The literature in our cabin had promised fox, wild horses, elk, bears, mountain lions, and ATVs. I was out just as the sun rose, so it was utterly deserted. This is not smart, and you youngsters reading this blog remember do as I say, not as I do. You should never run alone on a deserted wilderness trail. However, the rising sun with its pink tendrils stroking the tops of sugar pine beckoned me, and I could not stop myself. I promised I would not run beyond the next hill... and then the next hill, and soon, the civilized world was a distant memory and I was surrounded by silence... and predators. I had grabbed a large stick to run with as everyone knows that 100 pound half century old shriveled ladies can defend themselves against animals twenty times their size with a stick.

You of course know this had to happen, what happened next. I heard a roar. A deafening roar. The kind of roar that makes hamsters spin wildly in their wheels. I screeched to a halt, with stick in "ready position" (tennis players know what I mean- knees bent, stick poised in front for either forehand or backhand, depending on which angle the animal attacks from.) I scanned the treetops all around me as I know mountain lions stalk their prey often from above where you would least expect death to come from. As the roar intensified, I knew I was a goner, but the strange thing was that I thought maybe it was worth it. For the half hour that I had been drawn deeper into the forest, I had gazed upon the warm colors of a rising sun settling over frosty pine branches reaching to a silent sky. Vistas of distant endless mountains opened before me, and the peaceful quiet of nature had been whispering God was near. Would it be worth it to live a life in fearful safety, or would it be better to stretch out where danger may lurk, but God's presence was so powerful?
Maybe not, I thought as I swirled to the crashing underbrush. At that moment it was upon me, and then raced by, the huge ATV with a smiling, waving driver. As he vanished down the mountain trail, I turned back towards home, listening to the echoing shouts of all creation.

Romans 1:20
For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.