Gifts

Gifts-

Getting back into a regular pattern for my life after any hiatus is hard! It doesn't matter if it's a vacation for a few days or a trip of a few months.  I'm home now and figuring it all out.

The first week I was wonderfully distracted by my son’s visit from Seattle.  The second week I tackled the multiple boxes of mail- mostly junk but all of it  had to be sorted.  This week I opened some boxes in the garage.  Stuff, stuff and more stuff. (and notice the pace- I'd rather be chasing light or reading a book...)

But in the hustle and bustle of returning home, a single box was moved to the garage.  I didn’t remember it was coming, I hadn’t waited in anticipation, I was gone when it arrived.  But there it sat, waiting for me.

I found the box, finally, and when I opened it, I was thrilled!  A wonderful friend designed this book for my cabin- I’ll add some pictures, some greetings from the people who come and see me. A collecting point for wonderful memories. A treasured gift.

And I had forgotten it was coming. I didn’t realize it arrived. 

Yesterday, the Fedex man drove down my driveway- it always makes me feel like part of civilization to have a real delivery truck in front of my house!  I opened that box and there was a lovely, wrapped gift.

 

No card. No name.  I did have a birthday last week but who is blessing me?

 Gifts- sometimes they are unexpected and you can’t identify the source. Sometimes they come into your life and you don’t recognize them or fail to open them up.  And it’s not usually stuff- it’s gifts of grace and love and words of affirmation.

But when it is stuff- it's great to be fun stuff like this! 

My last gift didn’t come in a box and it wasn’t delivered.  But my dear friend wrote lovely comments on some blogs I wrote, she sent me a thoughtful email and encouraged me with her words.  It didn’t have a bow but it brought life to my spirit and delight to my soul as much as the book and bath goodies. 

What other gifts does God have for me? What gifts does He have for you? Are they forgotten, not necessarily in the garage, but in the back of our cluttered minds?  If they slip in quietly, do we notice?  I want to be watching for His gifts-  expecting mercy, grace, peace.  Living in anticipation of the good.

And I want to be grateful- I want to thank the person for the box of bath goodies in a wonderful box. I want to show my friend how the book turned out and rejoice with her for beauty and the hope of a good future.  I want to express my thanks for words of life and love.

For all the gifts that come my way,

Lord, I want to be mindful, I want to be grateful. 

Safe?

What does it mean to be safe?  Is it sliding into the proper place like getting to the base in a game of baseball?  Is it a strong, secure place with combination locks for our treasures?

 Dictionary.com offers- 
"free from hurt, injury, danger, or risk: to arrive safe and sound. 3. involving little or no risk...


That definition only works if you use the entire entry. To live free from danger or risk would be to fail to really live in this world.  Perhaps it is like sliding into the base for the remainder of the definition is to arrive safe and sound.  Not free from the risks of life but to arrive. 


My thoughts are jumbled today- my youngest child is creating his own life and that's all any parent  desires.  Except the life he is creating is in Seattle and suddenly that hip and beautiful city is full of violence and death.  He works at a coffee shop in the University District.  And today, close by in another U district coffee shop, a man is shooting and killing people. 


My phone rang and my brother asked if I had heard from Paul today. Had I heard the news? Of course 
not, I'm here in "no-tv, no radio, life is smooth" land. Suddenly, there's the bump.



But before I panicked, I remembered.  I chose to remember. God has been faithful to protect my kids before. God has been faithful to protect me. God was even faithful to my husband as his body failed and he entered the wonder on the other side of the thin veil of life.  I could trust this faithful God and He reminded me of that, of my safety. 


Years ago, my oldest son had a semester at Jerusalem University College http://www.juc.edu/long/campuslife.asp. He loved it, we were able to communicate by email chat, he seemed safe. He loved Jerusalem, he had favorite places to study and eat. It was a great experience.  Summer arrived and he was home once again. In August, one of his regular restaurants was blown up by  terrorists and fifteen people were dead. Safety was fleeting for them. Safety was an illusion for him.


Six years later, my second son was a senior and resident advisor at West Ambler-Johnson dormitory on the campus of Virginia Tech.  When the deranged student began his rampage- in  that dorm, my son was safe in his room. But so was the advisor for the next floor- he left the safety of his room to aid a student. Suddenly the job of a college dorm monitor failed in involving little or no risk...


So today as I waited for Paul to answer my text, I prayed. Not for a life with no risks but for a faith to trust when it's not sure you'll arrive safe and sound, for confidence in God's love when you don't know what safe looks like. 




And he's fine- he was home, safe, locked in and listening to the police helicopters overhead. Turns out his new home is half a mile from the abandoned vehicle linked to the shootings. 






So safety is not free being from risks but, indeed, we are safe. Safe in the Hands of a loving God, safe and secure from all alarms. Not safe from all harms but there is no courage when I panic, nor trust in my worry.





So I'll remind myself of that next time I feel a bump. Because there will be another bump in my world- living life involves risks.
But I'll remember. 

An indolent pace- not just for Chesterton

Hmm... ok, raindrops on the water going over a small dam.

It always takes me a few days to get into a rhythm here in the Hills. Urgent tasks crowd my first days and then it begins to sink in, I am really alone out in the country.  I panic a bit and wonder if I need to plan another trip... then I sleep in a bit,  shake myself, and wander along a back road. And suddenly, my spirit is restored and I am settled in.  And grateful to be here and l for any insight I may gain.

And usually grateful for amazing weather- I never complain if there is lots of sun. But this week has been cloudy, drizzly, foggy, a bit snowy or sleety- whatever rain is called when it's a bit solid in May. I was grumbling as I drove to town yesterday- I want sunshine!

But rain has it's own pleasures. The occasional traffic by my house kicks up less dust on the gravel road.  No need for sunscreen on my all-too-pale skin.  And I love the beautiful way a bit of water washes surfaces and brings out details in the mundane all around me.

I have been enjoying GK Chesterton and his lovely essays, Tremendous Trifles. I was introduced to Trifles by a very witty English blog at http://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2012/04/30/gk-chesterton-natural-born-blogger/.   I should say a witty Englishman, Malcolm Guite, writes a blog and refers often to Chesterton, a brilliant and also witty, twentieth century English writer and philosopher.  Those English- even their writings echo that appealing accent.

In his introduction to Tremendous Trifles, Chesterton compares his essays to the very popular writings of a contemporay, fellow Englishman Rudyard Kipling -


"The purpose of the Kipling literature is to show how many extraordinary things a man may see if he is active and strides from continent to continent like the giant in my tale. But the object of my school is to show how many extraordinary things even a lazy and ordinary man may see if he can spur himself to the single activity of seeing.      For this purpose I have taken the laziest person of my acquaintance, that is myself; and made an idle diary of such odd things as I have fallen over by accident, in walking in a very limited area at a very indolent pace."

I love that- "an idle diary of such odd things as I have fallen over by accident." Since he notoriously missed his train, Chesterton often wrote essays in the station as he waited for another, he once rode to the end of the line just to eavesdrop on an arresting conversation; he heard and saw life all around him.  Life worth observing and commenting on.

I don't have a train or subway to ride. I don't have many conversations to overhear.  But I can chose to move at a more indolent pace, to see what life brings into my line of sight for each new day.  And I can comment on my world and so, dig up for myself the riches this quiet pace can bring.

"Everything is in an attitude of mind; and at this moment I am in a comfortable attitude. I will sit still and let the marvels and the adventures settle on me like flies. There are plenty of them, I assure you. The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder."


So in the spirit of GK Chesterton, I stopped grumbling as I drove to my errands. And I was able to stop along my way, to take a few moments to see my world. 

Nothing very special so far....

The contrast of the grasses, the new and the old,  catches my eye. 

 I turn and see another view -
  the rain has washed the stones on the edge of the lake. 

The rain cleans off the dust, heightens the colors, reveals the details

This is a very small lake, with quite dramatic cliffs.
I confess I am outside the fence and it is a twenty foot drop to water.
On slippery rocks.
Chesterton in his train station has nothing on me for adventures! 

As beautiful as the coral under the sea and as tenacious,
lichen clings to its own rocky environment.

I get closer.....
my eye no longer sees just a rock.

Instead  I see the palate of a piece of art,
 the design of elegance in the growth of lichen on rock.

Yellow lichen on a wet, black rock.

Closer and closer I peer at the pieces of art left for my eyes to discover.
A bit of bark on a black rock.

And there, in last year's grass, an ordinary pine cone.
Respendent from the rain's gentle rinse.

And close by, the reminder -
 from another brilliant pine cone, this was once  a might living tree.

Where does it go?
What might I see?

To walk in an indolent pace and really see my world,

 it's a thought.

Indolent, from Latin, in+dolent, insenstive to pain. Perhaps insensitive to the waste of time in wandering,  insensitive to the call of the bigger vistas, insensitive to the rush to arrive, do, perform, accomplish. 

But sensitive to the small, the glimpses, the peace of the slower pace.  And grateful. More and more grateful.  Even in the rain. Especially in the rain. 

Light and life

I love light. My husband went over our house plans with the builder and drew on all the walls, adding windows for more light.  I would migrate from sun patch to sun patch in the gloomy days of my own darkness, seeking the illumination my soul needed, finding it only momentarily in the sunlight pouring in those windows.  Even now I sleep in the east facing bedroom- the sun rises and pours in another day. 

This afternoon, I was just going down my to-do list - cleaning out the garage, emptying boxes, stacking cardboard. Ordinary life. 

Then there, in the corner of my eye, was a cloud. A magnificent cloud billowing over the distant hills the setting sun lighting the underbelly, like a glimpse of a breaching whale. 

I had tasks to do, things to finish. My big, beautiful camera that would capture that light is broken.  All I have is my phone camera and a pile of boxes to break down.  But the light calls and I follow.

 As I drive in my car, I  catch glimpses of sun on an old logging trail. Sun filtering through trees, sun on the lake in the distance.  Even as I stop and aim, I know my limited camera isn’t capturing what I’m seeing. The beauty that I want to show forever in an image escapes me.

 And I love words, which can be even more elusive than perfect light.Likewise, my thoughts are as shy as the quivering deer eyeing me from the shelter of the pines, the hare that darts across the gravel in front of me.  Here now, and gone again. 

And yet, just as I get in my car and chase the light, I sit at my computer and dig for the thoughts before they take wings and fly away, like geese in a streaming V . Lately, I've had more conversations with people who view the world so different from my safe circle of suburban believers.  I wonder if I have the right words to express what I see inside, what I know to be truth. 


In my roaming, I see the lacy edge of young pines on the reflection of a pink sky, a motionless lake quiet in the evening light.  But my camera doesn’t capture it perfectly. 


And I see glimpse and signposts all over my life that shout “You are loved!  Life is good! God is good.  Run home,  He's waiting with open arms.”  I am so aware of the goodness and grace of God in my life. Jus as I'm aware of the beauty of this afternoon, beauty that fills my eyes and catches in my throat.

And yet I often don't have the words to perfectly capture my thoughts, to express the beauty, not of creation, but of the Creator.

I stand on a lonely hill and turn in a full circle and I'm overwhelmed by the raw omnipotence of God who has created hills that roll in enormous waves,  a giant hill family wrapped in soft, spring green slumber side by side, daddy hills, mama hills, baby hills all tucked into the edge of the prairie. Here cattle and deer graze on tender, new grass.  He owns the cattle on a thousand hills and I can see the abundance of His hands as I twirl in the dusty gravel. Dark hills loom in the fading light. Fence posts march up the nearest rise. The road meanders on and on.

In the forest, there are glimpses of the lake, the light, the setting sun. Here on the open range, the bigness of this land is not a glimpse but a gasp.  And I've had a lifetime of enough glimpses of the goodness of God to know that the full picture of His grace and mercy is more than enough. So I capture a sorry image of the beauty that feeds my soul.  And I capture a word or two, ponder a verse, pray my words are enough.  

And if my images stir a longing for beauty, even more may my words, not be answers, but merely an invitation to ask the questions.  A stirring to see glimpses of the beauty and love that are within the heart of God. 

I chase the light.  And I am captured. 

Home Sweet Home

I woke up this week in cozy log cabin with sun streaming through my window. I'm home in Hill City. This is what's happening in the fly-over zone.

A view down my downtown street. There are two- this is one.
http://www.hillcitysd.com/

I'm back in the land of BIG trucks- Clyde feels right at home.
The Harley outlet has a empty space-
 the second day home, I worked at the Friends of the Library book sale there.

"Welcome back, we NEED you!"

Saturday this courtyard was full of artist working in plein aire.
Sunday, there were a handful of native dancers. 

Paul found a lovely hand made bowl for the upcoming wedding.

I love supporting local artists.
http://artforms.smugmug.com/

And I met Sandy- wonderful local artist.
I bought a piece from her for a gift.

http://www.sandyswallowgallery.com/

First night, we had a late night dinner with new friends at Desperados.

Cowboy land. And good food.

http://www.hillcitysd.com/Around-Town/Dining/Winery/Desperados-Cowboy-Restaurant

I missed last weekend's film festival but enjoyed this weekend's art extravaganza
 and a wonderful concert of the Yamma Ensemble
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NIWbMOnX-U

Hill City is a Midwest town chosen to host four international concerts in two years.
http://www.artsmidwest.org/programs/amwf


Paul and I ended Saturday with a "live pour" of bronze at the local foundry-
http://www.blackhillsbronze.net/blackhillsbronze.com/Welcome.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kUiwP7ucHVI

 Paul filmed the pour for the lead singer of the Yamma Ensemble - on her cell phone!

Most of my time has been spent here....

My son, Paul, flew in from coffee world- AKA, Seattle,
to teach barista skills to the staff at Mountain Treats.

....including my sister-in-law, Connie.
 Here's she's learning how to produce awesome steamed milk. 

And the whole gang....
steaming milk, pulling shots of espresso and generally having a highly caffeinated great time.

Yep, just another boring week in the fly-over zone. 

Art, wonderful art and new artist friends

Live International music

Good food

Friends wandering in and out of small friendly shops

Coffee, ice cream, home-made fudge, more coffee

Fly-over zone looks like paradise to me.

And I'm loving it! 

Quiet waiting

All is quiet in this house.  A baby is cocooned in his swing, occasional  small snorts and grunts interrupt the steady tick-tock of a wall clock.  The door is closed and the morning birds are silent. A car passes with a hum.  A young mother sleeps and heals. 


And I wait.  I wait for a baby's cry, a young mother's yawn and the two to be united again in the ageless giving of milk and life.   And I wait for news. 


As I made a cup of tea, I prayed- for peace for a family, for skill for a doctor, for the Spirit of God to invade an operating room in Chicago.  Because last week,  the young mother and her husband found out his best friend- his childhood friend, high school team mate, the best man at his wedding, a strapping young man has a brain aneurysm. 


This vigorous young man is a high school teacher and baseball coach. At batting practice, he was hit by a errant ball and developed a concussion. Not a big deal- he was in a batting cage, he's young, in great health but let's just do a CT scan anyway. Doctors and their toys.... found a large, a very large aneurysm buried deep in his brain.  What are the chances of him having it? And what are the chances of finding it before it ruptured?


An aneurysm in the human body is a time bomb in a blood vessel. Sometimes it's small and stable, sometimes large and deadly. But buried in your brain is a terrible, vulnerable place- one minute you have the worst headache of your life, the next you're are disabled, a vegetable or dead. http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002387/


So today the doctors are operating, using their knowledge and skill to fix his brain. What an amazing world we live in that we can even attempt to thread a line through the human body's vascular system and place a coil of platinum into the imperfect artery. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15J5s9fwSEE  


So I made my tea and thought, "Many people, family and friends, are waiting and praying for this young man but there are also many millions of people completely oblivious to those of us who wait, to our crisis."  I'm so aware of life continuing as normal for most while there is a crisis ongoing in another life- people continue to eat and sleep and work while someone's life hangs in the balance, while a new widow mourns the loss of her normal everyday life.... while we wait. 


As believers we wait for the Kingdom of God to be on earth as it is in Heaven, we wait for Jesus to return, for the fulfillment of all we now hope for.  But I  don't always live my life in restless expectancy, I don't always pray as I make tea for Thy Kindgom come, Thy will be done.  But I want to. 


I want to be aware, as I am today, that I can join in the great chorus of praise and supplication, praising God for who He is and asking Him to continue to do what only He can do.  And asking Him to show me my part here on earth. 


The baby stirs, the young mother wakes for her breakfast. Life goes on.  As we wait. 

It's not JUST about the baby....

Josiah is twelve days old.  Twelve days of terror, joy, frustration, more joy, relaxation, instruction, researching fussy babies, projectile vomiting, laughter, loving on a now happy baby, and more joy.

Much more joy. It's a new baby!

But I have been doing other things - doing some laundry for baby and mommy ( although I have the most amazing son-in-law who is on top of laundry), making iron-rich food for recovering after surgery, and I have  the early morning baby duty so tired parents can sleep...

Wait, that's still about the baby.


Well, I have been taking bike rides.

Could be Ireland?

Camp Lejuene has pretty decent bike baths- I ride down the Wallace Creek trail through the woods or across the bridge over the water.    I can't get to the marina  by bike baths but I found out they do have kayaks. Not sure if I'll get out on the water this trip.



'Cause I have to take pictures......

....of a hand made hat.
J for Josiah

.... a bib from a long ago life in the Philippines....from Great-Aunt Terry

And a new soft blanket from Great-Aunt Connie. 

He sleeps a lot and even that is funny. The orange bear hat started off on his head.
And his head started off between the pillows.
 Babies are very flexible.
.

Yes, I moved the hat- it's now a prop.

 There are also nice walks to take along the New River which is near Abby and Steve's house.  It's a bit buggy but the sunsets are nice.

Sunset on the New River, North Carolina

But that means it's night and suddenly, the next morning arrives and I should go take another long bike ride. It's so lovely riding my new bike along tree lined streets.

This base is serious about exercise AND heat stroke!
These water stations are scattered along the trails.

But first I need to keep the baby quiet so his mommy and daddy can sleep. It's ok- in the mornings, we read- he likes GK Chesterton's Tremendous Trifles, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/8092/8092-h/8092-h.htm#2H_4_0029.  Then he listens to Oswald Chamber's essay for the day. http://utmost.org/.   Or we sit on the screen porch and we both listen to the songbirds as they wake up.


Sometimes nothing works but BeBe is not deterred.... not swinging, not bouncing, not swaddling?.... how about the vibrations of the clothes dryer?

Works like a charm- off to sleepy land, my little man. 

Well, now I can do something else. I do have wedding gifts to choose, airplane tickets to purchase, a blog to write, my own laundry to do. I can read - to myself. I can write. I could exercise.


Or I can take pictures of funny baby faces.

Ah.... the perfect bliss of a sleeping baby.

BIG yawn. 
(He really isn't screaming- it was a yawn)

Oohhh.... maybe I'll think about waking up.
But first, I'll fill my pants.

Ahhh...
See how happy I am. 

Well, maybe it IS all about the baby.

And I savor each small moment, each mindless grin and soft gurgle. The wonderful smell of new baby.   I can  appreciate that this will soon be a blur of memories - more babies will come, along with teething, toddler tantrums, and teen angst.  All good times to come. And the experience of living through it with Josiah's mother and his uncles gives me such a sense of the fleetness of time. Yesterday I was the young mom wondering who had entrusted me with my own little man child.

 Today I am the grandmother,  little man Josiah's Bebe.

Deuteronomy 4:9

New American Standard Bible (NASB)

 ^... so that you do not forget the things which your eyes have seen and they do not depart from your heart all the days of your life; but make them known to your sons and your grandsons.

So for this day, for these precious few days, it will be about Josiah. It's about the joys and funny faces of the first weeks of a brand new person on this earth.

"Whenever a woman is in labor she has pain, because her hour has come; but when she gives birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy that a child has been born into the world. John 16:21 NASB

Welcome to the world, Josiah Robert.
Your BeBe is having a grand time with you.