Clarity

We’d been languishing on the pontoon boat in a favorite private cove for about an hour when a suspicious cloud grumbled a distant warning: approaching thunder.  The noon sun still shone overhead, glaring like a searing eyeball in an open blue sky, and yet we headed for shore just in case.  The threat of lightning on a body of water should not be overlooked. 

Once back at the pier, I hopped in the lake to cool off. Gentle, good-natured rain fell from a friendly-looking cloud I'd not noticed before, dappling the surface with transparent sprinkles.  They plinked around me like benevolent, refreshing, sweet-tempered pellets.  I turned my face toward the sky, inviting their touch, remembering swimming in the rain as a child on magical days like this. 

The flashback carried me back in time, but also deeper into the moment, to clarity – to the fact that I had knowledge enough to respect the elements, but also the soul to appreciate them, to test the edge of prudence and engage anyway, within parameters of caution.  Balancing these allowed me to swim in the pre-storm, to enjoy a moment of non-logical beauty before heading to the house.

In the midst of both appreciation and insight, the approaching cloud rumbled.  I climbed the steps, wrapped myself in a beach towel dampened by rain, and headed toward the house.

Although the parallel is loose and perhaps won’t be meaningful to anyone but me, this experience reminded me of something a respected author said in an article I read a couple of days ago. There’s a little lever in the human soul, sort of light a light switch.  With a quick flip we can choose to seek God logically (faith is something to study, learn about, and understand intellectually) or else mysteriously (faith is a portal to the divine beauty and mystery of life).  A careful balance that favors mystery supports an attitude of reverence that enables us to thrive…come rain or shine.

Fancy Day Again

Today was another long-awaited Fancy Day with my six-year-old granddaughter.

First we wrapped and wrapped and wrapped yarn around a book, then braided arms and tied a head and bodice to make a yarn doll with an appropriately classy name: Annabelle.  We decorated her with a ribbon apron, angel necklace, and silk flowers in her long brown hair (….“I love the flower girl…flowers in her hair, flowers everywhere!”).

Next we fashioned a fairy crown and she tried it on for size.

The guest of honor selected an antique plate du jour for her usual lunch of peanut butter and butter sandwich, carrot sticks, and apple slices.

Then we colored shrinky-dink shapes, watched them diminish in size in the oven, and used them as jewelry charms.

She dictated two stories and illustrated the pages with stamp pad art.  One was about a fairy turned human turned back into fairy who was saved by a mermaid and escaped tragedy at the hand of a wizard by stealing his freezing powers, the other about a gingerbread man wooed by a love-struck frog in the forest who gave him a surprise gift-wrapped box with a red dog inside.  

Our food project involved making open face sandwiches…with faces!  We decorated soft cheese-smeared rolls and cocktail breads with facial features made of cut vegetables and a few pieces of pepperoni.  Stringy zucchini hair (zucchini shredded into spaghetti shapes in a spirooli) was a favorite! When we were finished, winsome cheesy personalities seemed to jump right off the tray. The little artist said, “Look, the mama is saying, ‘OH! Just look at all my darling children!’”

More than Getting Wet

This thought jumped from a friend’s Facebook page recently, and stuck in my mind: some people feel the rain, others just get wet.  Maybe such a difference is what I think of as living vs. existing. 

This is interesting.  How do we live fully, unafraid and confident, in an age when ISIS beheads children? Or even when a first grader comes home perplexed and needing answers, wondering how an unmarried teacher can be pregnant?

Have mercy, Lord. Your Presence is Peace and Light amidst darkness and even terror. We want more of You; we want more than just getting wet.

It's a Kenmore!

Some may think it an extravagant luxury to own a spare refrigerator.  But honestly, we need such an indulgence to facilitate less frequent shopping trips here in the boonies (we’ve always lived in the boonies, just several different ones, and so have always had an extra frig).  During these most recent fourteen years at the lake, we’ve appreciated our old dinosauer of a Coldspot that belonged to my husband’s parents eons ago. Bless its ferocious old 40-year-old heart. 

This ancient but devoted frig burst out with fits of coughing and gagging this morning, as if the fan, motor, or both were dying or at least partially paralyzed.  We pounded on the side (think manual cardioversion) until it faithfully resumed function, but not without hoarse-sounding, raspy interludes.

Actually, the Coldspot survived near-death last summer (2013) in the midst of heat wave after heat wave.  During those blistering months, every time I opened its door the appliance thermometer recorded a significant drop in temperature - and fast. It was important to snatch the desired item(s) as quickly as possible and shut that door!  Even so, I worried sometimes that recurring drops in temperature (with summer visitors at the lake necessitating lots of use) would compromise the safety of our food.  Still, it kept grinding away.  Somehow.

But back to today.  After the third resuscitation attempt, we discussed the fact that we’ve always owned old, well-used extra refrigerators - also the reality that we’re getting on in years, and would rather not deal with the funky performance that accompanies second-hand appliances.  So we convinced ourselves we should buy a new refrigerator… today!

Yes.  Extravagance.  But at least well-calculated extravagance.

We drove to The City and located a model we’d seen online, verifying it as the chosen one: a discounted Kenmore from Sears. It will be delivered on Friday.  I feel like a young bride with a new domestic toy on the way.  In fact, I just opened the Coldspot doors (both frig and freezer) and imagined shifting its overstuffed contents into the sparkling new Kenmore:

There will be an element of nostalgia involved in saying goodbye to the obsolete Coldspot.  It has literally kept me afloat in the kitchen come holidays and visitors and heat and overwork.  When it goes out the door for the last time, I will celebrate its loyal and supportive service, all without even a second of time off.  Ever.

Kinship

A niece, her husband, and their 6-month-old daughter visited us for the Labor Day weekend.  The angelic baby instantly captured our hearts, a tiny magnet of a person able to speak volumes without a single word.  It felt as if she innately knew she belonged.  We were hers, and she was ours.

While the boat-faring, fish-slaying men threw their lures in the lake for hours on end, we landlubber women-folk stayed ashore and played with the baby.  And talked. For hours.  On end.  About ordinary things, and things that mattered.  It was good.

In the context of their visit, I remembered something: association with others often calls us out of ourselves to challenge, enable, and support whatever is partial and incomplete within ourselves.  Conversely, loneliness, disconnection, and isolation only cripple and imprison.

Many of my personal hurdles over the years have mushroomed into Goliath giants when I felt abandoned to jump them alone - to capably scale the cliffs solo (which I usually did).  This weekend I remembered how I’ve also been empowered with near-Olympian endurance and strength when others believed in me, even if they didn’t share the actual nuts and bolts of the specific situation.  This has been especially effective when they shared a foundation of common commitment and faith.

Honestly, I crave times of solitude in this phase of my life – every day.  They are therapeutic, and balance other times of involvement and output.  But I also know a too  much isolation can be stifling.  I need others.  And they need me. Life is about relationship.

Thank you, bright-eyed baby girl and parents, for sharing your lives for a couple of days, and shining your own unique lights in the midst of everyday life.  You reminded me that we fit together, pieces, of a larger, eternal Plan - that connection is a precious thing - that no man is an island, entire of himself.* 

*credits to John Donne