A Fresh New Day!

I woke up to SNOW!  I love it. It feels so good and clean. So familiar.  I went out to faithful Clyde, the wonder truck, and the moment my feet crunched the snow... I giggled. It always takes me back to skiing- "Get your gloves. Do you have everything? I'm not coming back to the car to find your hat. Come on- time's wasting. Snow's waiting!"  My dad, the ski enthusiast, never seemed irriated with the task to herding four children to the slopes.

So I crunched new snow, smelled crisp air, giggled.



I've been asked- "Where do you get your  (crazy, weird, scary.... well, whatever) sense of adventure?

Here....

my Mother!   she went out last night but her car didn't make it back up the hill.  
She's my hero- and drives me nuts.... I did offer to take her to her play but no...
 "I 84, I do it myself!"  

Yeah, me too, Mom...



So we  had breakfast and went out ....  in the the snow 

to a local festival.
Hundreds of geezers have four wheel drive or  pickup trucks in South Dakota.

And yes, my family has Nowegian roots. My mother's a Viking.

So we had -

Fruit Soup- better than it looks

 and Lefse - bland  Noweigan tortillas -

   

but skipped the....

Lutefisk- Norwegian blech.

Lutefisk (pronounced LEWD-uh-fisk) is dried cod that has been soaked in a lye solution for several days to rehydrate it. It is then boiled or baked and served with butter, salt, and pepper. The finished lutefisk usually is the consistency of Jello. It is also called lyefish, and in the United States, Norwegian-Americans traditionally serve it for Thanksgiving and Christmas. In many Norwegian homes, lutefisk takes the place of the Christmas turkey. In Minnesota and Wisconsin, you can find lutefisk in local food stores and even at some restaurants. It is a food that you either love or hate, and, as some people say, "Once a year is probably enough!"


http://www.davethefox.com/words/0112lutefisk.htm 

                                          Yum, yum- see, not just the Brits can ruin food.

 But enough fun and game -

 time to get mom's car home and Clyde and me back to the cabin .  

And, of course, I couldn't resist the back road. 

Gotta love 4wheel drive!

I wrote about Sheridan Lake in a blog.... my potential kayak spot- next summer

Hey, Donna- look, more rocks!

....with snow.  Beautiful :)

.

Clyde loves snow. Clyde can drive over dividers in parking lots.
Don't ask. 

 

Fading light- hard to capture, love the feel

And Home again - almost

Whoa- they didn't clear the road into my neighborhood?
 Giddy-up, Clyde. Right into the sun.
(lazy photographer didn't even get out of the truck)

Home stretch - down the hill. 

See the tiny horses... next time, use a camera not a phone.

Ahh... cabin, sweet, cabin in the afternoon light . And all snowed in. 

If I go in, can I come out?  Stay tuned

This is the north deck... with no roof  :(   ...yet.  

This is the south deck with a roof....
next year, the north deck will also look like this after it snows.
 Check out the classy cardboard box wood holder.  

So...what's a girl to do?  

Snowed in, truck sitting in a foot of snow, no skiis.... well, 

First you make a cuppa tea....

Then you set up the wireless modem- success ! it's great to have.....

a computer in front of the.....

ahh.....

I could  watch a ...

or read a ......

and definitely listen to some .....

Jonathan Maracle 

http://www.brokenwalls.com/content/multimedia/

And I can sit by the fire and share with you. 

Yep, it's a gonna be a good evening. 

I am alone. I wonder what I have just done to my life. For it is too late to retreat.

I'm sitting in my mother's quiet apartment. She is gone for the evening. I am avoiding the snowy roads and the reality of the tasks for the coming holiday. I've begun Kathleen Norris' evocative "Dakota - A Spiritual Geography". She begins with this beautiful line,

 "The high plains, the beginning of the dessert West,

often act as a cruible for those who inhabit them."

A cruible, a container for the smelting process, the holder for the molten ore. Latin for "a night lamp".

This season, between one life and another, this has become my cruible.  My life was melted down to "widow".  My heart holds the heat of wounded children and my own anger. The process has brought out the ugly impurities.  Have I been a night lamp?  A light to show others the way?  Somedays, perhaps.  Many days and nights, I was too preocuppied with my fire to wonder who was behind me, watching for a light for their path of grief or transition.

But the days passed and the nights again became haven's of sleep, not restles hours aching from the clench of grief.  The children regained their balance. Their lives built forward, as it is the way.  And the house became too big, too many memories. "I will not maintain a museum to the past nor become, at last, a houseWIFE". The wife of one man, not one house. And so the process began- "Pick what you want, dispose of the rest" sounds good; the boxes  with their names is testimony to my backbone.  But slowly, the treasures emerged and the dross burned off.

So today, the death is final. The house our family built, the home my children came home to for fifteen years, is gone. Sold. Belongs to another. 

We wired that house for an intercom system by wrapping wires in ten year old Abby's toes and letting her climb in the rafters.  We rarely used the system but we love that story. We gathered on a dusty subfloor and ate pizza, delivered up a mud slide of a driveway.  In the years to come, the children terrified and impressed our guest by valet parking - and backing that steep, narrow five hundred feet at top speed. We laid in the back yard on a trampoline gazing at stars and were awed by the owl that swooped over us in a whisper of power.  We danced on the deck. The stories are endless. We made it our home.

And today it is sold. Another family will move in and make their own memories.  Ours are safely tucked away.

And I am here. In the Heartland of America. In a log home as horses graze in my pasture and coyotes yip up the ridge. I can stand on my porch at dark and look a mile away to the friendly lights of neighbors across the valley.  It is quiet. There are few memories yet.

And this too is my cruible. I have been heated by this ardorous process of transition. This striving to get that house right so someone would want what I treasured. The work to move the treasures I kept.  Stressed by paperwork, misunderstandings, forgotten permits- details I depise; yet, the fuel to consume the rising dross. Who am I? Why do I respond  this way or that?  What is the purpose of pain and suffering? Of frustration?  Why was it so hard and confusing? Where were You when I was pushed to the breaking point?

Then the radio had my a reminder of my answer.  A new song for me is Mathew West's -

                                                      "Strong Enough"

You must think I'm strong
To give me what I'm going through

Well forgive me
Forgive me if I'm wrong
But this looks like more than I can do
On my own

I know I'm not strong enough to be
everything that I'm supposed to be
I give up
I'm not stong enough

                                                    Hands of mercy won't you cover me
                                                    Lord right now I'm asking you to be
                                                    Strong enough
                                                    Strong enough
                                                    For the both of us

Well maybe
Maybe that's the point
To reach the point of giving up

Cause when I'm finally
Finally at rock bottom
Well that's when I start looking up
And reaching out

I know I'm not strong enough to be
Everything that I'm supposed to be
I give up
I'm not stong enough

Hands of mercy won't you cover me
Lord right now I'm asking you to be
Strong enough
Strong enough

Cause I'm broken
Down to nothing
But I'm still holding on to the one thing
You are God
and you are strong
When I am weak

I can do all things
Through Christ who gives me strength

And I don't have to be
Strong enough
Strong enough

I'm not a big fan of contemporay Christian music but it hit a chord tonight. I couldn't do what I've done, what our family has done on my own. I was not strong enough. I hit bottom several times. I gave up and.... His hands of mercy covered me. He was strong enough.

And he sent His children to help - to encourage, to work, to pray, to listen to me rant or cry or rant and cry together.   I didn't have to be strong enough. I have not been alone in the fire. And I am so grateful.

So in the cruible of life, I was purified, I am being purified;  I will continue to be in the fire.

I am sad and I am thrilled. I am missing my old life and excited about the new.  I watch snow flurries cover the stones that form the landscape of this new home. And I am content in my place in His world.

Happy Birthday, Marines!

Today is the 236th birthday of the founding of the United States Marine Corps.  All over the globe, Marines will be cutting into some form of cake. The oldest present will have the first piece, the youngest served next- honoring both the leadership of experience and the pride of the youth coming into the tradition-

"Commandant of the Marine Corps Gen. James F. Amos cuts the Marine Corps birthday cake during the cake cutting ceremony at the Pentagon in Washington Nov. 8. A sword is used to cut the cake to remind Marines that they are a band of warriors, committed to carrying the sword so that the nation may live in peace."  2011

http://www.marines.mil/unit/hqmc/PublishingImages

From the halls of the Pentagon to the fields of Afghanistan to the corporate world, Marines remember.

   233rd Birthday, 2008

Unless you are in the field, the cake is cut as part of a long and traditional ceremony.  And obviously, even there, decorum is maintained. The flags are presented, sabers are raised, the cake is wheeled in and  the current Commandant's address to the Corps is read.  And since 1921,  previous Commandant General John A. Lejuene's eloquent message is  also read-

MARINE CORPS ORDERS
No. 47 (Series 1921)
HEADQUARTERS U.S. MARINE CORPS
Washington, November 1, 1921

759. The following will be read to the command on the 10th of November, 1921, and hereafter on the   
10 November of every year. Should the order not be received by the 10th of November, 1921, it 
will be read upon receipt.

 "On November 10, 1775, a Corps of Marines was created by a resolution of the Continental Congress. Since that date, many thousand men have borne the name Marine. In memory of them, it is fitting that we who are Marines should commemorate the Birthday of our Corps by calling to mind the glories of its long and illustrious history. 

The record of our Corps is one which will bear comparison with that of the most famous military organizations in the world's history. During 90 of the 146 years of its existence, the Marine Corps has been in action against the Nation's foes. From the Battle of Trenton to the Argonne, Marines have won foremost honors in war and in the long era of tranquility at home. Generation after generation of Marines have grown gray in war in both hemispheres and in every corner of the seven seas [so] that our country and its citizens might enjoy peace and security. 

In every battle and skirmish since the birth of our Corps, Marines have acquitted themselves with the greatest distinction, winning new honors on each occasion until the term "Marine" has come to signify all that is highest in military efficiency and soldierly virtue..... http://www.marines.mil/usmc/documents/lejeuneMessage2004.pdf




And at many balls, after listening with one ear and watching carefully to insure MY Marine didn't lock his knees and pass out midway through the sword ceremony, I relaxed (like I had any control of the event anyway).  Then we ate and danced.  And yes, there was a lot of drinking in between.

I remember a few birthday Balls- 

1979- my first amazing parade of American military, i.e. USMC history at Pensacola, Forida- the Marines really pull out the big guns when they aren’t on home turf.  Pensacola is home to Navy Aviation-  and of course the heart of Naval Aviation is Marine pilots.  So Marines strutted their stuff and showed off for their envious Navy and Coast Guard fellow pilots.

"The US Marine Corps Aviation- the superior core of Naval Aviation"

(I may get some flack for that one!)

And in 1990 we arrived at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas- home of proud and ambitious Army officers at Command and General Staff College…. and as soon as our neighbors knew we were Marines, it was - “Can we get tickets to the Ball?”   Well, by now we had been to multiple balls and the glow was a little less blinding. I had just had baby number 4 in August and it was just another birthday ball.  After all there were less than twenty Marines at the school!

Well, it wasn't just another Marine Ball.  Turns out the Marines really are the worst dancers in the military.  I had long suspected but it was confirmed when the Army took to the dance floor.  They danced!   And some smart officer (probably Army) chose the band so we COULD dance. We learned Texas Two Step and line dancing before line dancing was cool. Must be all those Army posts in Texas.  Great ball.

Thank you, United States Army- you can lead the way on the dance floor any time. 

One more memory- in 1982, the much loved movie ET was released. 

That year was a rowdy ball. It was in a huge warehouse or hanger- with the customary backlit parachutes hanging from the ceilings, disco balls, complimentary wine glasses with the date inscribed- most Marines have a sizable collection of ball paraphernalia. And it was all done by Marines for their ladies. We didn't lift a finger except to drive them home.

Well, the evening started early, the food didn't offset the alcohol and the speaker - who really did resemble ET- went on and on. Someone took a large North Carolina pine cone and added stubby legs and floppy arms and sent it up the long, littered table with our own birthday message...."ET-phone home." At the time is was hysterically funny- now I look back and think, "Wow, the world's finest fighting men are little boys at heart!"  Love them still. 

dvidshub.net

And even when the Corps is but a memory, the birthday is still celebrated. 

2005. This was Bill's last time to honor the Corps and share a cake with the people he worked with at Computer Sciences Corporation.  As is tradition, he ordered the cake, brought in his sword and his lady was just there to enjoy the moment.  

Semper Fidelis to the end. 

And here's the Marine who cares for his beloved daughter.  Bill would have so approved of  Steven R. Haack, USMC

Happy Birthday, Captian Haack!

So - from memories past to future glory- here's to the United States Marines.  

Semper Fi!