Dress Fancy

"I miss the beauty of our condo deck overlooking the lake," I said to Asherel as we walked the dogs, reflecting on our week at Smith Mountain Lake for my son's wedding.
"I miss writing my blog while watching the sun rise over the lake, and foxes trotting by, and being just a few steps away from kayaking in the morning. It was all so beautiful."
"There are different kinds of beauty," she consoled me, "This is beautiful in its own way. Look at that back yard!"
I followed her finger to a nicely landscaped terraced back yard along our usual dog walk route.
"It is," I sighed.

It was a nice back yard....much nicer than ours. And while I could see Asherel's point, and agreed... I still thought longingly of the deck overlooking the beautiful expanse of the shimmering lake with mountains ringing it. Just like God, beauty can be found anywhere, but some places are just more obvious about it.

I brought Asherel's bridesmaid dress and my Mother of the Groom dress to the dry cleaners. Having danced up a storm with no AC in the reception, both our dresses were in dire need of a cleaning. The man at the counter had a really amazing new computer/cash register. He hung the dresses then looked carefully at them. Then he punched some keys on his cash register, and suddenly it spoke to him, its robotic voice convicting:  "Dress. Fancy."
I laughed, "Yes, they are fancy dresses."
"They are beautiful," the store owner said, smiling. The cash register didn't say anything.
"We went to my son's wedding in those," I said, as though he cared, as though by discussing it perhaps I could stretch the beauty of that glorious week in the mountains a little longer. Still the cash register remained silent. It had said all there was to say, and now awaited the next customer.

I wondered as I watched the next client enter the store with an armload of casual shirts what the cash register might pronounce about those......
"Shirts. Common."

"Tell me, Mr. Cash Register, have you ever been to Smith Mountain Lake?" I asked it.
The cash register gleamed, "Lake. Fancy."
I glanced at Asherel and said, "How about my backyard?"
"Trees. Birds. Squirrels. Common."
I nodded knowingly at the Cash Register. But it wasn't done with its analysis:
"Home. Memories. Neighbors. Friends. Bamboo garden. Rocks with verses painted by little girl. Agility course. Happy dogs running. Family growing up. Faith. Prayer. Love. "
"I thought you said 'common'! Are you changing your mind? Since when are machines fickle?"
"Contentment,"  it said, and then was silent.
The Dry Cleaner owner acted as though he had not heard a word.


Philippians 4:11-13
I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

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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The Heavenly Dance

As neice, Caroline, and my two sisters Holly and Amy peered into the shallow water by the dock, we saw dozens of little fish dancing. Each fish circled above an 8 inch ring of pebbles. Every so often, when another fish approached, the whirling der-fish (that's a clever play on the word 'dervish' for those of you in your post golden years) would snap out of his circle and drive away the intruder. Occasionally, a small fish would join the circling fish and the two would swim together. The smaller one would swim sideways at times.

Intrigued, we pulled out our smart phones and discovered that this amazing behavior was common to the nest building longear sunfish. We learned that the male fish built the nest of pebbles by waving his fins and then circled til a female longear approached. The sideways swim was a mating dance. There was also an imposter, a male that would sneak in and pose as a female, but then spread his sperm surreptitiously so that his progeny would sneak into the unsuspecting amorous longear.

The Longear sunfish is endangered, and yet here was this remarkable fish in droves right on the shore of the lake where we are spending wedding week.

Perhaps my favorite fact about the longear sunfish is that the daddy fish builds the nest, protects the eggs, and remains with the very young fish until they have a chance of making it on their own. I thought it was a wonderful symbol of the role my son Matthias is taking on tomorrow, when he vows to spend his life for better or for worse with Karissa. Like the endangered sunfish, I think husbands and daddies who understand how critical their presence, guidance, love, protection, and generous servanthood to their family are in short supply.

I watched the circling longear sunfish til the sun forced me to seek shelter in the shade. This small world of patriarchal devotion comforted me. I thought of the heavenly Patriarch and how He is always circling, always watching for intruders, always guarding His chilldren. The heavenly dance reflected in the waters.

Isaiah 40:11, 22, 26 NIV

He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young. He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
and its people are like grasshoppers.
He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
and spreads them out like a tent to live in. Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one
and calls forth each of them by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
not one of them is missing.

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A Fitting Message

Yesterday I almost drove over a mink looking creature, then a black cat, and then a deer. Earlier we saw a fox which had a stare down contest with us for several minutes, and behind him,we think was a wolf. But still no bear. I may have to go even deeper into the wilderness.

I warned Matt repeatedly that the deer were rampant in this area and to drive very slowly on his way to our condo late last night. I may have warned him one or twenty times more than was strictly necessary, but the only one who came close to hitting a deer was me. It is Matt I most want to survive the next two days til the wedding..... but I want to be there too. Maybe I will wait to look for the bear til after the wedding.

Matt told me he checked out the story on the family he gave the bed to. He called the church they said they volunteer for. The church confirmed this was a wonderful family. The husband had severely injured his back and not worked for 6 months, and was only recently able to. The house was close to foreclosure. Matt and Karissa could not have picked a nicer family in greater need to help, they were told.

So Matt asked me to make a card with my artistic skill, and write something inspirational. Then he and Karissa would enclose a check.

"What inspirational message do you want me to convey?" I asked.
"Hope," he said.

A fitting message two days before his wedding.

Romans 8:22-25 NIV

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

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Thar's bears in them hills

We arrived without mishap except for one small heart attack, but Holly, my sister, says the symptoms of a panic attack are often indistinguishable from cardiac arrest. We unpacked and gazed out the glorious deck overlooking Smith Mountain Lake. I would be spending a week before the wedding in these idyllic surroundings. Our condo sits right on the lake and from our second floor balcony, I can watch the osprey and bald eagles (just saw one!) , and the mountains in the distance.

Asherel and I walked down to the marina to talk about storing our kayaks there for the week. The owner,Trey was very accomodating and found us a little slip on the water where we can put them, at no charge!

"Kayaking on the lake is great," he said, "Yesterday a lady was right off that point" (he pointed just across the small inlet)"And she saw something large swimming. She went a little closer and realized it was a big black bear."
"Really?! I've never seen a bear in the wild."
"Yes you have," said Asherel, "What about the bear on roller skates?"
"Yes, but no one believes me about that one," I said.
Trey looked at me with an arched eyebrow.
"You'll see lots of wildlife."
"Will I havea chance seeing a bear on my morning run?" I asked.
"You will be likely to see a bear," he said, "They are all over the place. And see that nest up there? That's an osprey nest. And there are eagles, and deer..."
"Now back to the bears," I said with furrowing brow,"You said likely...."
"And lots of wildlife. Be careful if you run on the road though. They drive fast."
"But about the bears...."
"M'am, the bears will be more afraid of you than you are of them."

I'm thinking that for someone who is having minor heart attacks just thinking of all the events of the coming week, it is not likely the bear will be more afraid than me.

"But I hope I do see a bear," I told Asherel as we walked back to the condo, "In the distance...where they belong."

Lamentations 3:10-11, 21-23 NIV

Like a bear lying in wait,
like a lion in hiding, he dragged me from the path and mangled me
and left me without help.

Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

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Dead Ends

I stared at the facebook post and for a moment, felt like I had been punched. The agent who had been so encouraging, seemed so interested in my book, and so close to being the start of my literary career was closing her agency. For a variety of reasons, she had had it with the publishing industry. I hoped this wasn't a way of getting out of having to tell me she didn't want my book, but I think her frustration had nothing to do with me. I stared at the announcement. My book had been with this agent for a year. My proposal was much improved through her suggestions and the book more streamlined through my continued editing but a whole year of my hopes for publishing had rested on that agent, the one who now was closing shop.

Oh well. I will figure out what to do next after my son's wedding in a week. Fortunately, my plate is too full right now to spend too much time whining or despairing.

"You must have a reason,Lord," I said out loud.
"Yeh, your book stinks," said God, "You singlehandedly drove her out of the book publishing business."
"How could one author do that?" I asked.
"It isn't easy," He answered, "Maybe you should take up a new obsession. How about kite flying?"
"I thought the voice of God was supposed to be one of encouragement."
"This is encouragement,"He said,"Stick with what you are good at."
"Well then you need to come up with something other than kite flying."
God was silent after that.

When James, John, and Peter were washing their fishing nets after a discouraging session of not catching a single fish all night, Jesus walked by. "Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch," He told them.
They argued that they had worked all night and not caught a single fish. However, rather than fight the Lord of Heaven and Earth, they did what He said. They caught so many fish that the nets threatened to snap and the boats to sink from the prodigious haul.

The lesson is not lost on me. When God wants us to succeed, He will grant us success. And success in His eyes may look different from success in our own.

"You don't really want me to take up kite flying instead of writing, do you?" I asked.
"No," He said, "But I would rest from this worry for the next week. Don't miss the joy I have set before you over the joy you thought you wanted but can't have right now."

Hebrews 12:1-3 NIV

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

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True Son in the Faith

I hope the bride and groom are holding up over these last few days til the knot tying better than I am. I feel like I am on the continual verge of a panic attack. This was somewhat accelerated when I read the bride's schedule of events she sent out today. The list sounded doable until I reached the event:

Mother/son dance

In a cruel stroke of timing, right after the mother/son dance, there will be a session where we will all learn a dance. I sent a polite request that we reverse that order....could I be taught to dance before the mother/ son dance?  Now I don't want to give the impression that I am totally hopeless....I actually can do a very creditable polka. Somehow I suspect the mother/son dance will not be a polka. Since a waltz is just a slow polka, I could get away with a waltz too. I am not sure young people waltz anymore.

When I was at Amy's house, she was watching me "move" to some music. I was cleaning and had started to dance a little to the background music. She watched silently from her perch on the couch, going through the stack of papers I had laid in front of her to sort into piles: keep, toss, shred, or eat before someone puts together the incriminating evidence. You know, the piles we all have....

Anyway, I became aware of the silence and the sensation of being watched and glanced up. Amy looked incredulous. Let it be known that Amy can dance. She can move with rhythm and grace without effort. She has always looked good on the dance floor. On the other hand, I have never been able to dance. I can't even clap more than 2 or 3 claps before I get off rhythm. It is truly miraculous that I made the elite highschool "Tigerettes of the Grid Iron" dance team. But that is another story, and one I think I told long ago in one of my posts.

"NO," said Amy, "Don't wiggle your shoulders that way...."
I gyrated my hips keeping my shoulders still.
"That's worse," she advised.
I began to twist.
"Stick with twisting," she said, "You can do that."
So I am hoping for "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B," "Twist and Shout", or the "Beer Barrel Polka" for the mother/son dance.

But in the end, thankfully, it is not about me.

Which is good, since I suspect I will be holding back a torrent of tears, and humming "Sunrise, sunset." Is this really the little boy I carried...the one who had undiagnosed allergies and was like an energizer bunny on uppers? Can the little whirlwind, tree climbing, non stop smiling torrent of energy that used to fit (momentarily) in my arms really be that 6 foot tall, handsome man that somehow I must reach up to dance with? Is he really the serious law student who told me I might have severely ruined his hopes of college by not buying him an xbox or Wii during the formative years when everyone else was practicing those game playing skills?

Paul of the Bible has a similar spark of incredulous pride, as he describes the young man he mentored and brought to faith. Of Timothy, he writes,
"Timothy, my son, I am giving you this command in keeping with the prophecies once made about you, so that by recalling them you may fight the battle well,  holding on to faith and a good conscience"
(1 Timothy 1:18-19)
Those prophecies about Timothy had to do with the gifts he had been given by God. Those gifts appear to have been unknown initially to Timothy- it was when the "elders laid hands on him" that the gifts were revealed to him. No one knew what the untested Timothy, new to faith, might become. In the end, it was all good however, as we know from Paul's warm greeting to him as , "Timothy, my true son in the faith." (1 Timothy 1:2)

 I may stumble on my son's toes, and look rather ungainly and spastic as I dance with him on this most memorable day soon upon us. I hope he will know that inside is a soul that is flowing with grace, and dancing with gratitude in the hands of God with my true son in the faith.

Deuteronomy 16:14
Be joyful at your festival—you, your sons and daughters

Proverbs 23:24

The father of a righteous child has great joy;
   a man who fathers a wise son rejoices in him.

Essentials

The kids with me shot through the rapids fine, and I followed with no trouble except for momentary cardiac fibrillation. However, the double kayak in our group hit a large rock sideways and the water washed over the two novice kayakers, filling the boat, and dumping them out. The guide shot over in his kayak and told them to just float with the current keeping their feet up. I kayaked near them as they bobbed like corks in the refreshing water of the Catawba. It took the guide twenty minutes to free the boat, dump the water out, and retrieve the human corks. He lost his glasses in the process. This is why one should never kayak alone.

There were only two sets of rapids on the section we kayaked, but I am not sure I would want to do it if I were the only adult. Later as the guide was walking with me back to my car, he asked if it had been fun for someone who had as much experience as I did kayaking.
"Oh yes," I said, "I would not have wanted to do those rapids alone with the kids. I mean most of the time, nothing goes wrong...but look what happened to the tandem kayak. What if I had been alone with the kids and that happened?"
"Things can happen," he nodded.

While the kids had a great time, they all found the flat water sections somewhat dull, and wished there had been more rapids. I enjoy the thrill of not smashing my skull against the rocks, but my favorite part of kayaking is the peaceful, flat water surrounded by wildlife one might not ordinarily see from the living room recliner. That is as much excitement as I can handle. We saw several herons and osprey. Bald eagles live along the river, along with mink and foxes, but we didn't see them this trip. It was a beautiful after dinner glide down a sparkling, swift river.

Afterwards, I settled back in the car with relief. One dream fulfilled and the entire group in my charge would be returned whole to their parents. I was glad I had done it, and I was glad it was over without mishap.

Now the craziness begins. I have a room covered with all the things I need to pack for the wedding trip to Virginia Sunday. We are staying a week at a condo on a lake, and have to bring all the linens, towels, soap, toilet paper, paper towels, dishwasher liquid, laundry detergent, wedding clothes, and of course the two very large boxes of the very specific vases I picked up at the mother of the bride's request. Then, there are the 6 kayaks. 3 are single person inflatables, 1 is a tandem inflatable, and must fit in the car.The two hard shells can go on top of the car. Of course to go with the kayaks, I need to pack 7 life jackets, 7 sets of oars, an anchor, wetbags, watershoes, locks, and emergency kits. Then naturally, we need to pack games for all the cousins to play, and there is some talk of packing the Wii and the rock band guitars. This pile of necessities is now sprawled like a homicide across the floor. Shooting the rapids is child's play compared to the daunting task of fitting all this in our car.

Funny how much is needed to survive just one week away from home. When I was younger, Arvo my husband and I bicycled across the country. We carried everything we needed for three months on the back of our bikes. I still remember how I vowed that I would always remember how little I really needed, and try to live like that for the rest of my life. Moses and the Israelites traveled 40 years in the desert and all they needed, God provided. He sent manna from heaven, and when they tired of that, He sent them quail. He produced water from the rocks to quench their thirst, and parted the sea so they could journey unhindered on dry land.

I looked at the pile of essentials spewed across my floor. I remembered the peaceful flow of the river lapping at my kayak, and the osprey circling overhead, and thought of the refrain from a song we sing in church, "All we have needed, you have provided."

Deuteronomy 2:7
 ⁷ The LORD your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. He has watched over your journey through this vast wilderness. These forty years the LORD your God has been with you, and you have not lacked anything.

the Desired Haven

"Quick! The sun is out- let's go for a bikeride."
"Wait, the sun is gone...."
"Batten the hatches! Looks like a tornado!"
"Quick! The sun is out- let's go for a bikeride."

And so it went, all Father's Day. In the end, we never did go for the Father's Day bikeride, never did get Pistachio frozen yogurt, and spent the day wondering what Mother Nature was up to. Summer in Charlotte is often like that. Late afternoon storms have a way of popping up and throwing trees around like toothpicks. In the end, we spent an uneventful day in the living room, waiting for a storm that never came.

Our 6 pm "after dinner" guided kayak trip tonight down the Catawba is going to undergo a similar scenario. Right now, thunderstorms are predicted, starting right as we are due to settle our derrieres into the kayaks. Once on the water, we don't have a lot of choice but to stay on it til we reach the take-out point 2 hours later. It is all but impossible to kayak upstream in that section of the Catawba. The river is fast, and filled with fun riffles of white water rapids. They are little ones, just class 1 rapids....or so I have been told. Having never traversed that section of the Catawba, Asherel and I are finally fulfilling a dream I have had for two years, to kayak an easy white water section near our home. But since I am not foolish, at least not this time, we are going with a paid guided group for this trip. If it doesn't kill us, we can do it again on our own. 

But those pesky thunderstorms are lurking. After our day of indecision, and finally not going on the bikeride, the thunderstorms never did materialize. We could have gone....but we chose to be safe rather than sorry. Now we are safe....and sorry. That is often the trade off.....

It seems I am often in the same dilemma as the thunderstorms. Do I stay or do I go? Do I risk the unknown and race off to a potential storm, or do I sit safe, fat, and regretful right where I am? Even my vacillating feelings over this kayak trip follow that pattern. The kayak trip is not without danger.... all one has to do is look at the three page fine print release we must sign before the guide will take charge of us. All kinds of awful things could happen.... and right on the cusp of my son's wedding day! What if I smash my face on rocks, get stuck in a copperhead nest, and subsequently have to hobble down the aisle with a ventilator strapped to my beautiful gown? It could happen....

But, I have wanted to do this trip for two years, ever since I discovered that other people have done that section regularly, and rave about it. So often, experiencing life's joy to the fullest involves taking a leap.... a leap of sanity, a leap of courage, a leap of faith. Not all things can be reasoned through with calm rational pros and cons.Sometimes one just has to throw the kayak in the water along with caution, and hang on for the sheer thrill of being carried to a place otherwise unseen.

Psalm 107:23-31
²³ Some went out on the sea in ships;
   they were merchants on the mighty waters.
²⁴ They saw the works of the LORD,
   his wonderful deeds in the deep.
²⁵ For he spoke and stirred up a tempest
   that lifted high the waves.
²⁶ They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;
   in their peril their courage melted away.
²⁷ They reeled and staggered like drunkards;
   they were at their wits’ end.
²⁸ Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,
   and he brought them out of their distress.
²⁹ He stilled the storm to a whisper;
   the waves of the sea were hushed.
³⁰ They were glad when it grew calm,
   and he guided them to their desired haven.
³¹ Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

He will provide the increase

I remember my sister telling me that in organizing one's life, it is important to keep a hedge of time around yourself.  Don't schedule every minute, she warned. Then when unexpected things occur....and the unexpected always occurs....you will have time to handle them without the messier alternative of slitting your throat.

As I mentioned in my blog yesterday, my hope for this week was to put a hedge of time around myself, so I would be available for any last minute requests from the bride and groom or Mother of the bride. As I also mentioned in my blog, I had not done a very good job of hedging. And then a friend emailed and asked if we wanted to come see her new pups. Of course we did! We would squeeze that in somehow.....I did have a spare half hour on the way to errands. And then the mother of the Bride, Pam, called. I xxxxed out all other items on my to-do list, as this was the most important thing the mother of a groom does....whatever the bride needs her to do.

My job was to go to a wholesale store near me and find some very specific vases. In case the bride wants the reception to be a secret, I will not divulge the nature of these very specific vases, but Pam had gotten a great deal, and the price of shipping would exceed the price of the vases. Could I go pick them up and bring them with me when I drove up the following week? Of course! I knew we would have to pass up the puppies, but as Asherel said, "We've seen puppies before."

So we found the store and went to the manager to ask about these very specific vases. He pulled out a tape measure and we wandered up and down a few aisles looking for the exact correct size.
"Can it be 2 inches shorter?" he asked, "We have many of those."
"She was very specific," I said, "She needed that height."
"Why?" he asked.
I shrugged, "I don't know. Mine is not to question why, mine is but to do or die."

Finally, he found a box and pulled it out, and measured. Eureka! It was the very specific height, appeared to be the very specific shape, and he would give me 50% off.
I snapped a picture of the very specific vase and texted it to Pam. There was a catch....he could only find 5 and Pam needed 7 or 8.
"However" I told Pam, "He had lots of the shorter size...would you want to have both sizes to get the number you need?"
"Would that look ok?" she asked.
"I don't know...I've never done this before."
"Neither have I," said Pam.
"Asherel is very artistic," I said, "Should I ask her?"
"Yes," said Pam, "But you are an artist too...."
"But I can't visualize. Asherel can. Just a second."

In retrospect, it was a little odd that the mother and groom of an elaborate, elegant, formal wedding were seriously consulting with a 14 year old who is terrified of wearing dresses or anything that smacks of dressing up.
Asherel shook her head. Mixing sizes would not work, in her highly refined opinion.
"Let me call the florist and I will get back to you," said Pam.

In the meantime, Asherel and I went walking up and down every aisle and we found at the far hidden corner of the store, on display another of the very specific vases. I carried it over to the manager. He pulled out a tape measure. Yes, it was the right size.
I texted Pam, "We have 6 now!"
Then the store employee hurried over with one more, but with a small chip. I texted Pam, "We have 7, but the 7th has a small chip. You will get a discount, they said!"
Pam didn't answer the text as she was on the phone with the florist who was not happy about the less than very specific solution being proposed, but felt it would maybe be ok if it was the best that mother of the groom and her 14 year old consultant could manage.(In all fairness, both Pam and the florist were much more gracious than I am indicating, but the rest of the story is exactly as told.)

Pam called. I explained the current situation. She told me buy the 7 with the chipped one too, as surely everyone would be looking at the bride and not notice a small chip anyway. And just as I was about to pay, another employee came rushing out with another box of 4 of the very specific vases.
"We now have 11!" I cried delightedly to Pam.
"Get 8, in case one breaks," she said.

I felt a little like the widow in the story of the empty jars in 2 Kings of the Old Testament. The widow was out of money and food, and was ready to eat her last bit of bread with her son before closing her eyes to die. Elisha the prophet proposed that instead, she go out and gather as many empty jars as she could. She did so, with no further instructions. She had no idea why she was gathering the jars. She just knew that Elisha was a prophet of the God she trusted and loved, and she would obey unquestioning. In the end, she gathered the jars, Elisha told her to pour her last tiny bit of oil in the jars, and miraculously every one was filled. She then sold the oil and had enough to live on for her son and herself.

It is one of my favorite Bible stories and illustrates one of my favorite biblical principles. When you step out in faith, God miraculously supplies the increase. He miraculously fills the gaps, covers inadequacies, and reveals the location of the very specific vases.

"What is she going to do with all these?" asked the store owner as we checked out. If you saw the very specific nature of the vases, you might be tempted to ask the same thing.

"I don't know," I answered, "But I suspect it will be the anchor of their home decorating down the road."
She shook her head, laughing.

2 Kings 4:3
 ³ Elisha said, “Go around and ask all your neighbors for empty jars. Don’t ask for just a few.

Deuteronomy 30:16
¹⁶ For I command you today to love the LORD your God, to walk in obedience to him, and to keep his commands, decrees and laws; then you will live and increase, and the LORD your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess.

Luke 17:5-6
⁵ The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!”
 ⁶ He replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.

Wise Scheduling

As soon as Amy's pancreatitis ordeal is over and done with, she is going to need to come help me clean out my house, I thought as I returned from the airport. I had spent the past four days helping my recuperating sister whip her house into shape in between doctor appointments and hospital stays. It was a sore disappointment to walk through the door of my own house, greeted by dust balls the size of small dinosaurs. All the papers and to-do sticky notes I had left four days ago were still there... including the one on top of the due library books I had asked to be returned to the library, requested of certain family members not to be named except under excruciating torture such as someone asking me politely.

Oh well, I sighed, at least I have my pancreas. This is a blessing for which we should all thank God on a regular basis.

I leave for my son's wedding in a week, and with the depth of all my experience and wisdom, I planned a social calendar that rivals the new Princess' of England list of engagements. Just the thing for one of the most happy and important and busy days of my life coming up! On this week that I need to be preparing to head to Virginia to be mother of the groom, I have planned a 3 hour Beatles Tribute Band night downtown on Saturday, a down-river 3 hour kayak trip for Monday, volunteer work for 5 hours on Tuesday,  a dog club awards dinner for Wednesday about an hour from us, and a hair appointment and hopeful visit to our Nursing Home friends on Thursday. So far on Friday, nothing is scheduled, but you can bet that in my Energizer Bunny mentality, it will be filled with something before noon today.

Why? Why do I do this to myself? So for everyone who is planning to ask me to do something else this week, I would just like to say NO. Except my son and his soon to be bride. Friday is all yours, my loved ones.

I wonder if God ever feels overwhelmed. If we are made in His image, then one could conclude upon viewing me at this moment that God is submerged in paperwork....along with dust and dog fur. But try as I might, I can't find a single Biblical reference to God slamming the door on His people and saying, "I am lying down now for a nap, hold all prayers til further notice." Not once. Every time one of us whiners lifts our hands to beseech that He help us out of yet another catastrophe, He is reputed to be always listening.

Sigh. Ok, who needs me Friday?

Psalm 121:2
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber

Cinderella Moment

"Your bridesmaid dress is here!" I said, as the dog's security alert system became fully operative. I pulled in the package as the FedEx truck drove away.
Asherel glanced up from her latest top secret creative endeavor.

"Com'on, we need to go get the fitting done, so hopefully it will be back before I leave for Texas."
She followed me out, wearing the silver shoes she would wear to the wedding. As though putting my fancyclothesphobic daughter in a strapless, full length gown were not harrowing enough for her, she had to wear fancy shoes too. We had fortuitously found silvery sequined sandals with just a tiny heel that she acquiesced to with only minor face contortions. They were really just glorified flip-flops but Karissa the bride had approved them.
"Who ever invented long gowns?" she grumbled.
"Asherel," I warned. She pasted a smile on her face. She remembered that there would be no complaining in the face of this honor her future sister had bestowed upon her. She hates dresses....but she loves Karissa and thus far in the battle being waged in her soul, Karissa was winning.

We headed off to the alteration shop.I helped her take the dress out of its bag and found a long length of satin tie.
"What's this for?" I asked.
Then we realized that she had to be laced into the dress at the back, like trussing a turkey. We both giggled as I did so, she less than I as I pulled the laces tight.
"Oof."
"They have to be tight or the dress will fall down."
As she stepped onto the little round fitting platform before the mirrors, I pulled out my camera.
"What are you doing!?" she cried.
"Asherel, don't start this. Karissa will want a picture."
She sucked down her protests, but glared.
"She won't want a picture of that face. Smile."
Asherel forced a smile on her face. She really looked beautiful. The seamstress came and turned up the hem.
"It fits perfectly," she said, checking the snugness of all the seams.
This is an incredible blessing. My dress took three fittings and rather major alterations before it fit. Since I will be out of town for almost all of the next two weeks til we leave for the wedding, I had wondered how we would manage if the fittings took longer than a day. I wondered as Asherel gazed at herself in the 3 way mirror if she had any Cinderella thoughts.
"Can I take this off now?" she whispered. Ok, probably if there were any Cinderella thoughts, they were brief.

We drove on to another store.
"You will need a dress for the rehearsal dinner," I said.
"Let's not worry about that now," she said.
I found a dress, well ok, 3 dresses for the rehearsal dinner, for me, but Asherel was still holding out for a reprieve. As we checked out, she saw candy at the counter.
"I have an idea," she said, "How about every time I wear a dress, you get me gummy worms?"
"Deal!" I said.

This is the time honored parenting method known as bribery. Some parents have negotiating, compromising, and educated approaches to raising children well. I am on my third teenager and I wasn't young when I started this whole adventure. Bribery teaches no life skills, except perhaps as a future extortionist, but frankly, I am hoping Jesus comes again before the fruit of my poor choices falls rotten at my feet.

What would Jesus do? This is the question that should guide every aspect of my behavior, but I can find no example in the Bible of a girl who hated dressing up. All I can find are warnings of not putting too much stock in externals, or being pure and lovely on the inside, caring less for what one eats, drinks, or wears on the outside. I have to say in all honesty that maybe Asherel is on the right track on this one.

But then, there is that verse about the wedding guests....and the ones that try to barge in without being properly dressed. They are chastised and thrown out. The warning is be ready for what the occasion demands. I suspect Jesus cared less about dressing for a wedding, and more about being ready when the King of King returns.  It will not be a casual event. But I suspect most of us spend more time getting ready for a dinner out than for the return of the Author of all Creation.

"We have to buy your dress tomorrow then if the one in your closet doesn't fit," I warned.
"Sure, for gummy bears!"
"No, no gummy bears unless you wear the dress to an event. You don't get gummy bears just for trying them on."
I was proud for my exemplary standards in raising this daughter of God.

Matthew 22: 11-14
¹¹ “But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. ¹² He asked, ‘How did you get in here without wedding clothes, friend?’ The man was speechless.
   ¹³ “Then the king told the attendants, ‘Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’
   ¹⁴ “For many are invited, but few are chosen

Futility

So I lied. I wasn't done with the wedding painting like I proclaimed a mere two days ago. I kept looking at the painting of my son and his soon to be wife, and I couldn't stand it any more. I know I insisted I was done, but it just doesn't quite look right. I had to go in and change it....again.

"Your soul sucking painting?" Amy asked me later when I called to see how she was recuperating from her nasty bout of pancreatitis.
"Yes, that one."
"Send me just Matt's head and let me see if I can help," asked Amy.
So I sent her Matt's head, not on a platter, but on gmail.

She sent back a photoshopped correction of what she felt was wrong. She lengthened the nose, dipped the upper lip, and squared the chin....the very changes Asherel told me to paint out last week. I am beginning to feel like a yo yo.

I even incorporated math into the process. I measured the distance between all Matt's features and then set up a ratio/algebraic equation to discern if my painting ratios matched. I found one measurement off by 1 cm., corrected that, and felt it did help. I may not be much of an artist, but I was pretty self-impressed by my math skills.

If I had another year....I think I could do it. But I only have two days. Then we are off to a Beatles tribute concert and then to go take care of recuperating sister Amy. Then it is wedding time.

Now I wish I hadn't made fun of all those portrait artists that use projectors to trace their subjects from a photo. At this point, I would be sorely tempted to cheat that way. It's like how I chastised my mom for all those years for dying her hair. Now that I am old and grey....if I hadn't made so much sport of her maybe I would become a blond and see if I had more fun. Smugness has a way of rebounding onto oneself.

And I must say, I have a whole new respect for God's skill in making each of us look exactly the way we are supposed to. It is much harder than you would think.

Karissa, the lovely bride to be, is nothing but grace and kindness. They will love the painting, she writes, because it was made by me. It is very sweet of her, and I almost want to paint a mustache on both of them just to see how far that sentiment could survive.

"Does it look like Matt?" I asked husband, Arvo.
"Do you have a picture of him?" he asked.
I didn't say what was in my mind, which was, "It is your son....remember him?"
I showed him a picture, which he scrutinized. He gave some good and thankfully simple advice. I agreed with those observations, mostly because I could do them without totally repainting any feature. I have noticed that my receptivity to any advice on the painting is in direct proportion to how easily I can incorporate the changes.

I have reached this point of total frustration in my art many times. Sometimes, I let the bitter defeatism take over and I take a glob of black paint and paint over my struggle with frantic, vicious strokes.( This might be that "lack of maturity" the art gallery owner who rejected my work was referring to.) I have had to leave the room to prevent this from happening to this year long labor of love. Funny how anyone looking at the final result would never suspect it took me a year to get even this far. They can't see the layers and layers and layers of failure underneath the current layer.

Again, I knew God was painting me a message. To many people, I think I appear to be at least on the fringe of respectable normalcy. I mostly can get through each day without causing too much damage to myself or others. But there are layers and layers and layers of failure underneath the surface....and the surface is still not what it should be.

I guess if it were, I wouldn't recognize my need for God. Perhaps all that failure is a blessing. Success never seems to bring me quite so desperately to His side, begging Him to take my brush and guide my hand.

Two days aren't enough....but it is all I have. So I better stop writing and make the most of my time.

Job 7:3
³ so I have been allotted months of futility,
   and nights of misery have been assigned to me.

Daniel 12:13
  ¹³ “As for you, go your way till the end. You will rest, and then at the end of the days you will rise to receive your allotted inheritance.”

Watching toenails grow.....

The highlight of my sister's week was a ride in the ambulance transporting her to a new hospital. She took pictures along the way, posting them to facebook, so we could all see how she spent her summer vacation. This summer vacation appears to be made up of scenes from looking inward, rather than outward. She had thought she would get a whole hour of freedom from IVs and medical jargon and medical staff. She had thought she would be allowed an hour drive to her new digs with her husband in their own little car. But I think the nurse overheard them plotting a trip through the McDonald's drive- through on their way to the new hospital. (Amy has had only ice chips for 2 weeks or so now. Her pancreas cannot process anything but that at this point.) So she was stuffed into an ambulance instead where she snapped pictures of the scenery along the way, and her toes.... toes she has spent weeks lying in bed contemplating.

This hospital is better acquainted with the procedures that may be necessary. It affords her at least new ceiling tiles to count. She is in too much discomfort and on too many pain pills to be able to read, or watch TV long. Visits are tiring, and she doesn't really feel up to them. The hours drag on as the doctors wait to determine that the pancreatic pseudocyst has hardened enough to drain. From what I could glean from the little research I did, it really is better to wait for the portions of the pancreas that die in pancreatitis to fully differentiate themselves from the healthy pancreas cells. This apparently does happen if the surgeon waits a few weeks, and the patient outcome is far better. But the waiting is not fun. Of course, it rarely is....not when the waiting includes deprivation.

I am flying out in a week and a half. At that point she should be done with her operation, home recuperating and I will come and be her slave for a few days. After going on a month in the hospital with a brief interlude between the two visits there, it is likely she has some chores that I could help with. Of course she told me not to come, to stay home and deal with the wedding plans of my son in a month. But all my obligations for that are almost done. I just had to finish the wedding painting which took an unfortunate turn yesterday.

I had sent photos of it to Matt and his lovely bride to be, Karissa, asking them for final critique. I wanted it to be perfect in their eyes. No one else's really matter. After writing down all their suggestions I had a two page list. Nothing was too major, but any one who has ever painted knows that if you change one thing on a painting, it sets off a creative domino effect. Slowly, every thing else has to change to support that one change. At one point yesterday, Asherel walked by and saw me lying on the floor pounding my head against the rug.

"How's the painting coming?" she called in.
"Don't look!" I cried, "Please don't come in!!!!"
She of course came in. And laughed. I had to laugh too. At that point, Matt looked just like a chipmunk. I had removed his lips to shorten his nose which I suddenly realized was a shade too long, and his teeth a little too crooked, and had not yet returned lips to his face. However, two massive Beaver-like front teeth gleamed unobstructed from any semblance of a human mouth.
"I've ruined it," I told Asherel. Nine months of painting down the drain.
Still chuckling, she walked away.
I felt almost as bereft as Amy.

So I went back to work. I worked all day on it, about 9 hours straight. Karissa had thought Matt looked fine before I had made the changes. It was Matt that had suggested the changes. So I sent them both the revised portrait. Karissa's mom, who was roped into consultation, thought perhaps I should ignore their suggestions as she felt it might have captured more of Matt's essence before. Matt however loved the revised Matt, and had one more tiny suggestion.
"Forget it," I wrote back, "I am done."

So the painting is finished, and for the record, I will never ever ever ever do another wedding portrait. And for the record, Amy will never ever ever ever have another ice chip after this ordeal is over.

I suspect looking back on both events, both of us will find the humor, the lessons learned, the silver lining. Retrospect is God's gift to the patient.

Deuteronomy 8: 2-3
² Remember how the LORD your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands. ³ He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your ancestors had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.

It is Well

As I pulled up to the Senior Home in the van, our two elderly friends sat side by side holding hands on the porch bench. Evelyn wore a dazzling blazer with pants that picked up the  subtle rose tones of the jacket. She had sparkling silver shoes, and her make up and hair were perfect. Comer wore a suit, with shined shoes, and neatly combed hair.
"All dressed up to go for a ride in the car?" said Asherel to me later, incredulous. As you may recall, I had to hogtie her and threaten no dinner for the rest of her life if she did not dress nicely for church on Easter.
"And balancing fast food on their lap at that," I added, "But remember Asherel, this is the highlight of their week. This is their date every week."
I drive them around and get fast food to eat in the car because they are both so frail and have trouble walking. My preference would be much more exciting adventures but there is not much more they can do. They always tell me "no" when I ask if they want to get out of the car and go walk to the lovely bench on the lake shores we visit.
However, that poignant image of them all gussied up, holding hands with big expectant smiles on their faces as I drove up stuck to my conscience like flypaper.
We found a beautiful hidden lake and a gorgeous neighborhood where the rich hide out. I also got lost in the country, and we passed broken down trailers and pre-fab homes with rusted cars dotting the front yard.
"I'm showing you how the po' folk live," I called back to them.
"I know how the po' folk live , " said Comer.
"How's the banana shake? Is it good?" I asked Evelyn, hoping it wasn't spilling on her beautiful outfit.
"The banana shake is good," she answered, in between humming with the old 50's music playing on the CD.
"Music, banana shakes..... all we need is candlelight!" I said.
"Yes," she laughed, "candlelight...."
"How's the chicken , Comer?"
"Oh it was fine!"
"But what you really want is a steak, right?"
"Oh that would be a treat!"

As I helped them out of the car, I held Evelyn's hands and said, "I think we need to get Comer a steak next time. He is a meat man."
"He is," she laughed, "He sure is a meat man."
"Comer, do you think you and Evelyn could walk to the back of a restaurant along the water? We could eat at that steak place on Lake Wylie next time if you would like."
"Oh, I think we could!" he said happily, brushing chicken sandwich crumbs off his fine suit.
"How does that sound Evelyn, eating while sitting outside watching the ducks float by?"
"That sounds.....," she struggled to come up with the word on her own, ".....good!"

Jim, my brother in law, texted me from the hospital this morning.
"Amy's blood work is normal! She can start on a liquid diet today! She walked in the hallway with me...it is so nice to hear her talk again."


My boy Matt called today. From the depths of despair with no first year law school internships knocking at his door and a marriage in July that he hoped to have some sort of income to support....he got two job offers last night! Both good, both wonderful experience, both fantastic well-paid opportunities, and he can do both. He accepted both of them.
"So I will need you for one favor, Mom.... I'll need you to drive my car down to Florida cause Karissa and I will be flying straight from the honeymoon to Florida. How does that sound?"

"That sounds.....," I struggled to find the word to express what was overflowing from my heart, "....good."

Psalm 34:8

 ⁸ Taste and see that the LORD is good;
   blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Tottering for His Glory

Asherel good naturedly took the long silky gown into the dressing room.  The girl I have to pry old tshirts and jeans from would do even this for her beloved future sister in law- submit to a dress fitting. And as she is a bridesmaid, not just any old dress but a long, fancy dress.And as is the case for all bridesmaids, not even a dress of her own choosing (which would have been no dress at all) but a dress chosen for her. And purple too. Still she entered the dressing room smiling.

As the bridal consultant pinned Asherel into the dress, she even managed to smile for the picture I took.

"The bride says we need silver shoes," I said, "But Asherel doesn't want heels at all. She has never worn heels. She doesn't want to totter down the aisle. Any suggestions?"
"Can't I just wear purple converse sneakers?" whispered Asherel, "They even make them in silver......"

I laughed. That morning I had drawn a picture in anticipation of the afternoon fitting. The picture is the one on this post. Do I know my daughter well, or what?

The consultant brought out several pairs with small heels. Asherel scrunched them on her bruised and battered feet which despite my constant urgings, are always running barefoot on concrete. She walked a few steps.
"Will those be ok?" I asked.
"If I have to," she smiled weakly.
Then the consultant appeared with some flat silver thong sandals.
"She could wear these to a formal wedding?!" I asked, hope percolating in Asherel's eyes.
"No one sees the shoes anyway," said the consultant, "I have had brides wear these."
"Well, I better run it by the bride before we get these," I said.
"And these pretty bangles on the shoes could be picked up by the jewelry she wears," offered the consultant.

Asherel's eyes popped open, in horror, and she mouthed silently to me, "Jewelry! I have to wear jewelry?!"

Meanwhile, we had gone to the shop for fitting, but intended to order on line. Out of guilt for taking the consultant's time, I fingered through the mother of the groom dresses. I already had found a tea length gown that fit and had been approved by my sister Holly  who won't let me get away with any faux pas if it can be helped. She is not always successful, mostly because I don't confer with her on everything. Holly liked the dress but expressed concern about the tea length. The bride had told me if it was a fancy tea length it would be fine. And now as I mentioned to the consultant that I had a tea length gown I liked, she scrunched up her face.
"For a formal wedding?" she asked.
I nodded.
She looked at me with a pregnant silence.
"Not formal enough?" I asked.
"You're funny," she said, as though I were joking.

So she pulled out a half dozen gowns.
"Try these," she insisted.
They were covered with frufru.
"I don't like this neckline....or these ruffles, or this flower shoulder.... no! No one shoulder- too risque. No, that is too fluffy...." etc etc etc.
Asherel watched me. It suddenly occurred to me that my next question was going to be if I could wear my running shoes with it since no one would see the shoes anyway......

And as I thanked the consultant and prepared to leave, she pulled out a simple and elegant, rather Grecian looking gown.
"Try this," she said.
With a sigh, and an apologetic look at Asherel who was in on the ruse that we had to appear interested so the store would fit us without being angry at us, I went into the dressing room to try on the dress. And this is the part that stinks.... I fell in love with the dress. I sent a picture to the bride and she loved it too. Even my husband loved it. So I may have to get it.

Today is the birthday of our old friend in the Alzhiemers unit. It is a wild, racing day jampacked with activities, not the least of which is ordering the gown(s).  I had made banana bread to bring to Evelyn. What do you give someone who is losing touch moment by moment with the world around her? She loves sweets. You fill her sweet mouth with sugar and hope that it conveys the sweetness of God's love prompting the souls He has placed in her presence. And I thought of the dichotomy of the luxurious and lovely gown that my tshirt/jeans loving girl was willing to wear as a gift to the future sister she loves so well, and the humble offering of banana bread to our old friend for her birthday. 

My Bible reading this morning was from 1 Corinthians 10:
...whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.

Whatever we do.... tottering on heels, submitting to photos with a smile on our face, or holding a wrinkled hand and singing Happy Birthday, and all the residents within earshot think it is possible you are singing to them. Such a simple credo to live by. Oh how I pray I could carry that verse in my heart always, and live it fully.


1 Corinthians 10: 31-33
 ³¹ So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. ³² Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God— ³³ even as I try to please everyone in every way. For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they may be saved.

My personal adviser

My sister called with effusive congratulation and delight about Matt's engagement. She also subtly began asking seemingly innocuous questions. Somehow, though Holly and I did emerge from the same set of parents, she came out of it knowing all of Emily Post's etiquette as well as how to put on makeup. She knew that while I had safely not sabotaged Matt's engagement thus far, I had only known about it for 24 hours and she was quite certain that a major blunder was sure to spew uncontrollably from my corner.

She is right to be concerned. I was never good at paint by numbers. I almost got expelled from kindergarten for painting the grass blue and my cow purple. Unconventional is my middle name, after Sue.

"Give me some credit!" I told Holly, "For a whole year they were dating and I never once went shopping for a mother of the groom dress." I paused and added, "Mothers of the groom do wear dresses, right? And I assume without matching belly packs?"
"Listen," said Holly, "Your best tactic at this point is just not to say a word. Just nod in their presence."
"I have one big problem I need to discuss with you," I admitted, "How do I sign my emails to her? I mean I don't care what she calls me but I don't want her to feel uncomfortable. Up til now, I just sign them "me".
I think Holly groaned, but then advised that I just let Karissa know that I am happy to have her call me whatever she wants. Mrs.K, Mrs. future mama, Mrs. Foot in Mouth.... whatever.
"And before you make any major statement or purchase, call me," she advised.

Coming from my adult sister, I am not offended. I know my limits. However, when I had asked Karissa to help Asherel find good sandals while shoe shopping last week and I was nearby trying on the ones I liked, Asherel glanced at my choices and whispered to Karissa, "You need to take her shopping...." When the 13 year old realizes her mom is clueless, well, that is just not good.

I know how blessed I am. I have a whole set of advisers. My hairdresser is an invaluable resource. Every time I go for a haircut and plunk down on the chair, she says, "What are we doing today?"
This is such an incomparable kindness as my sisters and even Asherel cover their ears and chant "lalalalalalalala" as loud as they can when I ask what I should do with my hair. But my hairdresser wants to know and wants to help me.
" I am not quite sure. I want something elegant but fun. Classic but quirky. Short but long looking. Not old lady even though I am, but not like an old lady trying to look too young. And while you are at it, I want a look that creates the illusion of competence. And I want it to be no trouble to maintain."
She has only once covered her ears and starting chanting, "Lalalalalalalalala".

As Holly got off the phone, she quelled any concerns with the caveat, "You should be fine. The mother of the groom doesn't do much anyway. When Asherel gets married I will set up a command post in your home."

I love that God recognized our need for counselors and advisers. I understand not everyone is as clueless as me, but still, there are a lot of numbskulls stumbling around out there. I think it is comforting that not only do we have a Heavenly Guidebook, but we have a Guide. A wedding is nothing compared to finding the way to Heaven, though in many ways the latter is much simpler. All I need to do is ask, and the door is opened, and I can enter with bad hair, ugly shoes, and belly pack. I know I can't do that at my son's wedding.

Matthew 22

The Parable of the Wedding Banquet

¹Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying: ²"The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son. ³He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused to come.

⁴"Then he sent some more servants and said, 'Tell those who have been invited that I have prepared my dinner: My oxen and fattened cattle have been butchered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding banquet.'

⁵"But they paid no attention and went off—one to his field, another to his business. ⁶The rest seized his servants, mistreated them and killed them. ⁷The king was enraged. He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city.

⁸"Then he said to his servants, 'The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. ⁹Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.' ¹⁰So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.

¹¹"But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. ¹²'Friend,' he asked, 'how did you get in here without wedding clothes?' The man was speechless.

¹³"Then the king told the attendants, 'Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'

¹⁴"For many are invited, but few are chosen."