Monday musings

Early rain arrives

Most of the lights are out around me, and we are watching for flashes of lightening across the skies. This may be ho-hum for those in the Midwestern regions of the USA, but here? In September? This is very special, and we are loving it. My favorite part? The smell of that first rain -- oh, how does one even describe the pleasure? I don't think I can, but it sure does float my boat.

Mingled with the smell of the rain is the fragrance of fresh-baked bread. My youngest daughter had her first bread baking lesson today; she made excellent loaves and a handful of rolls that made her proud and filled our bellies. Yum.

A bountiful first baking lesson

On a more sober note, I took my mom in for a doctor's appointment this afternoon. She's anemic, and they can't figure out why. Somehow, I hadn't realized that the "why" could be a bad reason, but it could be...as in the Big C Bad Reason. There are other things, less frightening, that it could be as well, so I am working on silencing the worrying voice that is echoing in my head. If you are a praying person, could I ask you to pray for my mom? Her bone marrow biopsy is next Monday, and that should give more conclusive information. I don't want to panic; I just want to continue doing what we have faithfully done over the last two-and-a-half years. That is, enjoying this season of sharing our lives and our property, our pantries and our laundry facilities, our hearts and our minds. I cannot believe I have been given the gift of getting to know my mother so well after decades of being only friendly strangers.

I realized something as I drove away from the doctor's office this afternoon. By opening myself up to a close relationship with my mother, I am now extremely vulnerable. Just as when I became a mother, and I could not hear of bad things happening to children without it tearing at my soul, now that I have become a real daughter, I cannot hear of the death of someone's mother without involuntary tears trickling down my face. Today, I was reminded that there will come a day when my mother will die. I can only pray that what is inevitable for all of us will be held off for a little while longer for Mom. I am certain that we have more jokes and books to share, more memories to piece together, and certainly more shared life between Gram and my children. Just this week, she fitted a dress-up gown with a zipper, made orange pudding for an autumnal party, and provided me with tidbits of news from the outside world. She's a gem!


Gram's pudding

As we drove home, we listened to an instrumental version of Holy, Holy, Holy. Long a favorite hymn, the simple instrumental brought my heart comfort, and reminded me of the God I trust. I am in good hands. And, so is my dear mom.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!
All Thy works shall praise Thy Name in earth and sky and sea;
Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and Mighty!
God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity!