Well, here we go...

My inspiration, on her way back to Halifax on New Year's Eve

Over Christmas break, my daughter Madelaine talked to me about blogging...why I stopped blogging, would I be open to starting again, how about a weekly post? You see, she lives in Nova Scotia now, and not only does it FEEL really far away, it IS really far away. We stay in touch with calls and texts, the occasional silly FB messenger video, but she suggested that a weekly blog post would add something of substance. Plus, we both love words, we both like to write, but writing for pleasure doesn't happen for us without some sort of external motivation.   So, here we go. Weekly posts. 

HI MADELAINE!!!    *Waving madly across the country to the frozen world of the Maritimes.*

...so we bought a maple tree

My mother-in-law has just spent several days in miserable pain after radiation treatment for cancer. Knowing that she was hundreds of miles north, her children scattered from California to Colorado to Wisconsin, has put me on edge.  Fortunately, her husband (who has not felt well for months) is being amazing, and he is finding, within himself and his church community, the strength to go on.

But all the same, I am itching to jump on a plane.  I would love to make butternut squash soup and read Wendell Berry aloud, clean the bathroom or collect autumn leaves to bring joy to her bedside table.  I don't want Roger to have to worry about the trash or meals or transportation or anything but communicating to his wife the intense love and devotion he has for her.

We have not had a smooth and idyllic run of it, my mother-in-law and I.  My husband and I have been all about making a mark in our family different than the marks of our upbringings.  That she has managed to be so gracious to us is suddenly amazing to me.  She understood our need to be Us, and she has had to stretch her own comfort zone to find room for the ruckus that is our family.  Take our family size, as one small (or is it huge?) example.  For a woman with serious environmental convictions, this has created plenty of opportunity for her to stretch.

On a recent visit, she and I had a chance to be alone together in the car for a bit.  Roger had been having a bit of a health crisis while she was gone, and it brought to light the brevity of life. I asked her what her thoughts were about staying on the island where she lives if Roger died first.  She told me that she had entertained thoughts of living in our granny flat.  Oh, I cannot tell you the joy that brought me.  I would love a chance to live next door to her, learning and stretching and growing with each other.  I know the rich reward of that, and I was thrilled that she would even consider it.

Even when things are looking so fragile, as they are right now, it doesn't mean the whole jig is up.  There could still be those days.  But yesterday I realized that I had let that dream take root in my heart and it made me sad to imagine that it might not happen.  I can understand if she chose a different option, but knowing that she is so ill and could have a short time here on earth, well that just did me in a bit yesterday.

And so Claire and I got in the car and drove to the nursery.  It was wholesale day for the regular customers, and we found a few plants to add to the front yard beds.  But the crowning purchase of the day was a maple tree.  The price was right, the color is majestic, and it is a TREE, a grand and glorious tree.  Part of its beauty and grandeur is the autumnal display of red and gold, and soon those leaves will be gone.  But spring, ever hopeful spring, will come and the leaves, Lord willing and we don't kill the thing, will grow new and green and abundant.  The branches will reach for the sky and seasons will continue to change.  Time will move on.

There was something in my restlessness yesterday that was soothed by planting a tree.  

An Eagle Project (is all funded, thanks to so many!)

Our son Brennan is getting ready to begin work on his Eagle Scout Leadership Project. It will be here, on this hillside overlooking our church, and will involve several steps.  He will expand the area by eight feet, he will change the surface from a rough bark to decomposed granite, and he will build and install a pergola.

 

We had been brainstorming with friends and had been looking through books, trying to find a plan for what Brennan wanted to build. Then we went to a dinner party and at some point in the evening our friend Dave looked up and said, "Hey, John. THIS is what you want to build." Voila. We had our prototype.  Thanks, Pat and Becky!

 My favorite part of this project is that it will be done in memory of my mother.  Mom was a little worried (maybe appalled would not be too strong a word?) when I gave her the news that a fifth child was on its way.  So many children, so much work!  But then Mom moved to our home when Brennan was only 3, and he became a source of great joy and pride for her.  Bren would go have a visit with Mom every afternoon, and those visits quickly became a favorite part of her days.

And now there will be an outdoor worship area at our church, built in her honor and in her memory.  I am so pleased.

  

**UPDATE**

The project is now fully funded, thanks to the generosity of so many.  The work will begin soon.  I am very grateful.

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The estimated cost of the project is $567.00, and we currently have half of that money raised.  I am hoping to do my part in helping Brennan raise the remainder of his needed funds so that we can get the project started.  If you are interested in donating to his project, you can do so with this paypal button:

If you do not feel comfortable using paypal, you can email me at acircleofquiet(AT)yahoo(DOT)com and I will let you know where to send a check.

We really appreciate your consideration of this project.

Change is in the air

As we settle into the routines of school, change is settling in on branch and leaf. Breezes blow, and the slant of shadows speaks to the coming dark. I love autumn, the cooler temperatures and the smell of moist earth. I come alive as the temperatures drop, although after a mere twenty-four years in this county I have almost acclimated to our searing summer temperatures. The rain cannot come soon enough, as the dirt road along our fence sends up billows of dust whenever cars drive by, and the pond down the hill is showing signs of longing.

   photo credit: Isaiah Eyre, wedding photographer extraordinaire

But change is more than a weather pattern. With a son newly married, the fabric of our family has changed. It feels shrunk down as my ready to dance boy has become a fine man, living on his own with the woman of his dreams. He takes with him a volume of noise unmatched by any others on this little hillside, and our house feels bittersweetly larger in his absence. But we also feel expanded to include this beautiful, eyes sparkling woman who loves my son with a passion that inspires me and makes me laugh with joy. She loves adventure, she works hard, and she brings beauty with her wherever she goes.  Like a tailored suit, made just for us, she fits into our inner circle with an ease and grace that feels perfect.

Change never seems to come single file, and at church we must come to grips with the fact that our rector is retiring.  This fantastic man who met us in hospital halls to pray for Mom, even though the weird smells and the aura of disease were unpleasant for him.  He carried the Eucharist to her bedside, and he made me promise that I would call him, no matter the time, when Mom's time on earth was done.  He met us where we were, disaffected Baptists, and brought with him the Book of Common Prayer, the wine and the wafer, the liturgy of our childhoods.  And now we have returned to those roots, to what many see as a denomination fallen away from the truth.  I see our church differently, though.  It is a place where we can be without words and still pray prayers that have stood the test of time, a place where the sermon shares equal time with the Eucharist, where confession and the passing of the peace bond us together.  We have a community that exhibits grace and an eagerness to grow in their faith. 

 A few weeks ago Claire was baptized and we stood in front of our congregation as these words were read:

Will you who witness these vows do all in your
power to support Claire in her life in Christ?

And we all boldly responded "We will!"

Claire responded to questions with a quiver in her voice, and our rector's voice broke as he continued the liturgy.  It was a tender ceremony.  Not only was Claire surrounded by all her siblings, her new sister-in-law, and her dear friends, she was embraced into a community of faith.  She knows that these are her people, that she is part of the membership.  

Over the last eighteen months, I have thought a lot about how hard it can be to be a young person at this time in our history.  The stress feels very different, the isolation and pressure and uncertainty seems much deeper. That Sunday in church, gratitude welled up inside of me as I realized that my daughter belongs to these faithful people.  Times are changing, a new rector will be here November 1st, but she is a part of the family.  At some point she may be called to go it alone, to wander in the wilderness, but she knows she belongs to the membership and that they belong to her.

And we know that, too, which helps us as we fidget in the changing confines of our world.  We are not alone. 

Brother and sister

 

This is one of my favorite non-bride & groom pictures from my son's wedding.  She is so beautiful, he is so handsome, and I am so proud to be their mother. 

Photo credit:  Juliet

Where do I even begin?

Sometimes the fullness of life gets squeezed into a few weeks.




Travel to Long Beach for work at a homeschool convention....











and One Way Productions' excellent job on Quest For Honor: A King Arthur Musical, with Claire playing a very convincing Morgana. (Don't let that smile fool you!)















In the midst of the swirl, we dashed away to our favorite winery for two nights of quiet and rest to celebrate our 26th anniversary,

returning in time to watch sapphire tulle swirl to the sounds of Masquerade.  Beauty in motion.

Then suddenly it was time to start the adventures that would culminate in the wedding of our son and his beautiful bride.  First, though, I took off early to spend a few days in Eugene with Madelaine. I could stare out these beautiful windows for hours.  In fact, I did!









Then it was on to Carol's to cook the rehearsal dinner.  Well, that was our stated purpose, but we really savored the chance to talk for HOURS.  Being able to start on a topic, finish it, come back to it, add a few more things, and talk about it some more was a rare gift between friends who live so doggone far apart.  It appears that Carol's job in my life is to be so incredibly generous that I have to learn how to receive without being able to respond in kind.  She is amazing.

I wore my mother's apron, tying those strings around my waist with a prayer of gratitude for her love.  Oh, she would have loved that rehearsal dinner meal.  And she would have sat back and soaked in my son's smile.  It was a beautiful sight.

The twinkle lights and tiki torches lit up the night, but nothing sparkled as brightly as the bride and groom.  What a happy couple, and man! do they know how to have fun at a party.
















The Callihan farm was like a fairy land as the sun set.  Faith and her family created the perfect ambiance for a wedding.  The evening ended with a pyromaniac's dream fireworks display, and the newlyweds ran off to their new life together under a canopy of sparklers.  God grant you many years, my dear ones.

We drove home by way of Eugene, bringing Madelaine back to school along with her dear friend Juliet.  Wedding bouquets do better in water than they do tucked into the car door, but sometimes you just want to keep the golden beauty nearby.  The drive was long, but it gave me hours to reflect on the blessings of the last few months.  It is a wonderful life after all!










FYI:  I have finally caught up on my photo blog, I have posted recipes from the rehearsal dinner on my recipe blog AND I have posted curriculum I have to sell on a new tag sale blog.  If you know of anyone who might need homeschool curriculum, I would appreciate you sending them my way.

Happy summer to you all!!!

General update

Time is flying... I have been busy thorougly enjoying basketball games here, there and everywhere. The grand finale was a tournament in Southern California. Bren and I took a road trip, traveled via the coast, and had a blast.

We started by driving to Cambria, to the home of a long-time friend of mine. She was my youth group leader back in Los Altos, the one who loved and comforted me, the one who made me laugh during the rough patches of high school. We have stayed in touch, through much joy and sorrow. I loved seeing her again.

We also spent an evening with her daughter-in-law and four granddaughters. Delicious food, a home that radiates peace and purpose and beauty, a quiet hour by the fire trying to catch up on the last ten years...it was a slice of heaven. Bren was introduced to Phase 10 by the girls, and we must go get a pack of those cards soon. He is hooked.

We then made our way to San Luis Obispo, a quaint little town where we had lunch at The Kreuzberg*CA Cafe. You know you are in a college town when your lunch options include the Thomas Mann, Jane Austen or Aristotle sandwiches. We had a long-overdue visit with a young woman whose family we have known since before we got married. Done with college, getting married in July, learning and growing and radiating happiness, she was terrific company. It was a very quick hour but a highlight of the trip.

We headed south down the coast, waving to Gus and Shawn and Jules as we moved through Santa Barbara.  We passed green hills and crashing waves and felt the cool ocean breezes; I had that gut-wrenching feeling I had so many years ago when we decided to move from the coast and live in a more affordable part of California.  I love where I live (I DO!  I DO!)  Oh, but those ocean breezes get me every time (insert Pablo Cruise's Ocean Breeze for the full effect.)

We made our way down the Ventura Freeway, and just in the nick of time we turned east with the rest of the traffic and found ourselves stopped in a concrete jungle.  The L.A. traffic helped me remember(once agan) the empty lanes of Highway 50 near home and how moving to our little hill was  a brilliant idea. 

Naturally, I did spend some time dictating texts for Brennan to send to John.  It went something like this:

Di:  Ventura Highway...
John: in the sunshine...
Di:  Where the days are longer
John: the nights are stronger...

etc. etc.

(America, Ventura Highway, for those who don't know.)

If only I had known last Wednesday what I know now (after googling the lyrics): 

'Cause the free wind is blowin' through your hair

And the days surround your daylight there

Seasons crying no despair

Alligator lizards in the air, in the air

Alligator lizards?  REALLY?  I triple checked, and it's true.  Turns out John knew...but he thought it was "Seasons crying notice there..."

We do love lyrics.  Sorry.

Marriage Handy Hint: the silliness factor can be greatly aided by a common jukebox .

And speaking of texting with John:  he and Claire had a very special trip of their own.  They were in Philadelphia, Gettysburg, and Washington, D.C. for six days.  After eighteen trips with his school's eighth graders, John was finally able to bring one of his own children with him.  They had a blast.  Fortunately for us, their connecting flight home was in San Diego, and they could leave their tour group and head  north to meet us in Riverside.  It was a weekend of basketball that John would have hated to miss.

 
The Norcal Bears played really well.  They had four games, won them all, and they came home with the championship for their age group!  They had to beat two fantastic teams that were undefeated to get there, and they did it!  Both games had opponents that Brennan knew through speech and debate, so there was added excitement for him.  His friends were fantastic players, and it was great to see the battle go strong for all four quarters.  Both games were nail biters, especially the final game; they won the championship game in the last few seconds...by one point!  Our hearts were pounding for hours afterwards.

Bren was honored with the MVP award.  He played so well...we are really proud of him.

After our last game, we sneaked in a quick visit with more friends. another couple who spent time with me as a single woman.  Dear people, one now experiencing early dimentia.  Not an easy calling, but he is deeply loved by a great wife, and he will be taken care of through it all.  God calls us to dark paths sometimes, and I was glad to have a few minutes of heart-to-heart with his wife. 

We had one last stop to see good friends in L.A.  Sipping coffee, feeling the warmth of the morning sunshine, sharing the realities of life...it was a great last stop before we made the long haul home.

By the time we pulled in the driveway, our basketball player had a 103 degree fever, and our car had been the perfect petri dish for those germs to multiply and spread.  We're still coughing, still aching, still exhausted and we have been home for a week.  It's a good thing John had an extra week off this year.  Holy Week has been spent horizontal, hoping for relief and finding it in restless sleep.  I think the worst is over, and I am grateful.

All the coughing and sleeping doesn't diminish the joy of a road trip.  Time alone with my youngest, basketball wins and awards, good friends, lovely destinations, no mishaps.  It was a great week.

A 22nd birthday

We have the pleasure of my future-daughter-in-law visiting this week.  It's an extra-special pleasure because yesterday was her birthday. 

What fun to make Dutch babies for a new family member, to enjoy silliness around the breakfast table in honor of Faith.  Those two brothers in the background will continue to make life exciting for her for years to come.  It's part of the package of marrying Zack!

Happiest of birthdays to you, dear Faith Addie.  So glad you are here to celebrate all week.

March Madness

It's that time again...when the brackets hang on the mantle.  And today there is still hope for all of us.

As the two-time winner, I have had no assistance this year from my rather bitter youngest son.  He seems to think the only reason I won for the last two years is because of his help.  Well, we shall see about that.  I have every intention of Three-Peating!

My choices are pretty conservative, particularly for the Final Four, but I have a few early Cinderella picks to make the risks exciting.

Warning:  March Madness brings out the competitive beast around here.  If you stop by, brace yourself for weeping and gnashing of teeth or gloating and victory dancing.  There is no middle ground in March...it is win or LOSE, do or die.

Here's to the Three-Peat!

From the archives...Where I am From

Sometimes there is nothing new to say. Or too many new things to say. Or the sound of basketballs bouncing in my head. Or a whole lot of coming and going and working and playing. Whatever the reason for this Hoover Dam-sized writer's block, all I have to offer today is a post from the archives. Have you written your own Where I am From poem? If not, there's a link down below.

        *****              *****             *****             *****             *****             *****              *****              *****
Iam from peddle-pushers and freckle-face strawberry,
from Folger’s Instant and Kodak Instamatics.



I am from iris on the walkway, pyracantha for the birds to feast on,
from towering pines for hide  n’ seek,
from chalk and hopscotch and roller skates and four square. 


I am from hardwood floors calling, “Mom’s home!”,
from the sizzling cast iron with pancakes in animal shapes,
from the gas stove going “poof” if you took too long.


I am from the smell of fresh-mown grass and burying yourself in the piles,
from wave chases and sandy PBJs at Natural Bridges,
from olive trees wreaking havoc on the back patio and squirrels chirping
while cats stalk back and forth in front of the picture window. 
From  daffodils in the sandbox every spring.


I am from rare letters, perfect penmanship,
loud snoring and rollicking laughter,
From TWC and Joe and women I did not know,
paths traced from Ireland and Huguenots,
from simple folk and rich relations.


I am from only-the-good-news, weak lungs and prejudice. 
From inner-family squabbles and fierce family loyalty.


I am from “that’s just the way that it’s done” and “say ‘g’ as in Gault”,
from sitting up straight at the table and “run along and play.”


I am from “It Only Takes a Spark”
and I believe in One God the Father Almighty,
from kneelers and stained glass windows. 
I am from the down-the-road youth group where my heart was filled.
From campfire songs and Easter-week service projects.


I am from Fort Collins and Montreal,
Iowa City and Rye, New York. 
From turkey dinners and tuna casserole,
from steak and Yorkshire pudding. 
From holidays with Mom and weekends with Dad.
I am from two different worlds.


From risk-taking men and women who went along,
from Wall Street and the Malibu hills,
from golf course vacations.


I am from Charlotte’s Web and Puff having kittens
while men landed on the moon. 
From quiet walks in the rain and fudge during Wizard of Oz.
I am from Gramps guarding the Christmas tree.


I am from the box of memories deep in Mom’s closet,
from the empty baby book and the stories told by someone else.
I am from best forgotten and moving forward. 


I am from surviving and forgiveness,
from simple pleasures,
from making the best of it.


I am from stubborn determination and new life, from the miracle of joy and stability.

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This is based on the poem Where I'm From by George Ella Lyons.  You can read the entire poem here.


If you would like to write your own, click here for the template.

The Way I See It: Catching Up

Molly at Close to Home has a terrific photo prompt each week.  I took some time this week to fill in the gaps in my "The Way I See It" posts.  Click on the prompt links below the pictures to see Molly's posts.

Birth

As someone who loves autumn and winter, who savors the rich, earthy fragrances of mulching leaves and who happily stares at the bare branches of the silhouette oaks of February, I found this prompt challenging.  Of course, if I had done this back in the season of the nativity it would have been easier.  Fortunately, I got outside and I wandered, and we were in the midst of extraordinarily warm days.  The bulbs were fooled into bursting through.  The birth of the spring garden is a little premature, but I love the hints of bright green in the midst of the grays and browns of winter. 

Portrait

Claire and I fiddled with light and posing and hair in the midst of a kitchen needing cleaning.  I love the line of her eyebrow, the outline of her lips, the bit of light reflecting off her earring, her freeze frame expression.  

I love that she is my daughter.

I love her.

Warmth

I do not like the quality of this picture, but it says WARMTH in many different ways.  My youngest was hit with our annual February Fever and was bundled up in front of the fire doing his school reading.  He was warm.  The heavy blanket my nephew sent us from Japan was warm.  The fire was warm.  The sunlight from the upper windows was warm.

When we are sick I miss my mother, for even at the age of 52 it is her cool hand I want on my fevered skin.  And snuggling with a twelve-almost-thirteen year old, a young man who is almost six feet tall, will only get more rare as the minutes rapidly tick by.  My heart is warm with memories.

A Different Point of View

Yesterday we drove through the Sacramento delta lands on our way to and from a basketball game. It is a whole different world from my oak-covered hilltop.  

With wide open vistas, winding rivers, water-logged fields, birds circling and diving and feeding, it was warmer and wetter and refreshingly, beautifully different. Everything was flat, flat, flat. Traffic was a line of cars waiting for the drawbridge to come down again.

 

The smell of water and fish and tractor exhaust filled the air.  Stark brown fields with rows of stubbly something went on and  on and on.  Trees in perfect rows looked like a scene from Middle Earth.  Blue light softened every row and bend and branch into wonder.

 I have been thinking a lot about seeing things from a different point of view.  The view of a parent and a child, the view of a Protestant and a Catholic and an Orthodox, the view of a teacher and a student.  The view of one who is always certain and of one who is riddled with doubt.  The view of the optimist, and the view of the pessimist.  My point of view is only one vista, one aspect.  Someone else may see the same event, memory, ordinary day in a different light.  That does not need to threaten or undo me, but it does lead to humility.

I am sure I will be talking about this a lot this year.  I have a lot to learn.

It is a very merry Christmas

When I dropped this man off at the airport on Friday afternoon, it meant he was flying away to be gone on Christmas.  But there was no sadness.  This was an important trip to see a beautiful woman.

And there was a very important question he had to ask this woman, the kind of question it is best to ask in person.

And she said YES!

We had a feeling that the answer would be yes, so our goofy elves got busy.  We had a new stocking that had to be added to the row.

The elves had to choose the right decorations.  They chose a platypus (yes, a platypus), a ring and a camera.  She is a lover of platypi, a wearer of a sparkling engagement ring, and a fabulous photographer.

Welcome to the family, Faith.

Congratulations to you both.  We love you!

Merry Christmas!