A Mother's Day Gift

Today is Mother's Day.

It was never intended to be a Hallmark day of greeting cards, flowers and gifts.

Those are all nice to receive, however.

The concept of Mother's Day began in the late 19th century to birth a progressive political agenda  

leaning toward issues related to women's lives.

Radical Protestant women were the instigators.

 (Somehow "radical Protestant women" is a direct contrast to the image of 

quiet, knitting church ladies in long dresses and bonnets.)

In 1870, just following the Civil War carnage, Julia Ward Howe 

(think "Battle Hymn of the Republic")

expressed the dream of all mothers in the following

rousing prose:

"A Mother's Day Proclamation"

Arise then...women of this day! 
Arise, all women who have hearts! Whether your baptism be of water or of tears! 
Say firmly...
"Disarm! Disarm! 
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice." 
Blood does not wipe our dishonor, 
Nor violence indicate possession. 
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil 
At the summons of war, 
Let women now leave all that may be left of home 
For a great and earnest day of counsel. 
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. 
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means 
Whereby the great human family can live in peace... 
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, But of God -

After having read this, can you hear the cry of her heart,

reflecting the heart of all mothers through ages?

What is this theme?? 

Peace and disarmament.

Of course!

It is the mothers who carry a babe within,

give birth, spend countless sleepless nights caring for    
and loving this child,

teaching, nurturing, healing, molding, shaping.

Worrying that goes on for years and years.

War is the direct opposite to her lifelong roles.

***************************

I now want to recognize my beautiful mother,

an honorable and gracious woman who has taught me 

so much through the years.

And continues to teach and advise me wisely.

A woman who loves God and her family.

Who prays daily, faithfully, for each of us.

A wonderful thing, to be prayed for!

Like a warm blanket draped over my shoulders

on a chilly night.

She is a loving mother who is loved in return.

By her children, children-in-law (Is that a word?),

grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

And to show her our love, we just may take her to one of her favorite places to eat--
the local Dairy Queen!

REAL Comfort Food

When we speak of "comfort food",

the images of macaroni and cheese or milk chocolate

often come to mind, almost instantly.

But today I want to pay tribute to REAL,

I say REALLY REAL comfort food.

You see, I had a brief date with a surgeon this past Monday.

His expertise and skill took less than 30 minutes.

My recovery will take, is taking, much longer.

A few weeks, in fact.

And, for this first week,

this innocent-looking walker has been my constant companion.  Thankfully.

But even though offering wheels on the front, I find it bulky,

awkward, noisy (especially at midnight) and ugly.

Just doing its job, of course, and I can't imagine my life without it

 as I hobble around unsteadily.

I will be SO glad to give it back soon.

(God bless anyone that has to rely on a walker all the time.

Grace and patience must accompany its use.)

Yet sweetness has overflowed during this time in my life.

Carrying armloads of dishes, bowls and plastic-wrap-covered

yummies,  a parade of caring, kind friends have come through our front door.

Love spoken loudly and clearly to Jack and me.

Smiles, warm hugs, prayers and delicious, warm

casseroles, salads and baked goods have blessed us.

We have feasted on wonderful meals.

When is a cool whip container not cool whip?

When it holds treasures prepared by a caring friend...

someone who has stirred, 
chopped,       
cut, 
mixed, 
measured and scooped 
fruits, vegetables, meats and dough.

Put effort and care into providing nourishing meals that will aid in the healing of my body. 

And oh, so much more!

My heart and soul have also been encouraged and uplifted by the daily visits 
of these dear friends.  

Sitting down to a table overflowing with delicious aromas 

and a variety of recipes has sped the physical healing of my body by ministering to my emotional side.

I am so grateful to these loving friends who have given so willingly 
of their talents and time 
to bring us such comfort food.

This comfort food has truly brought comfort
in many ways!!

Sidewalk Artist

Our sweet Gigi has been an artist 

most of her 8 years.

She seems happiest with paper and a box of crayons,

especially those with fresh, new points.

But she also gets excited about the sidewalk chalk

she has on hand at Grandma and Popeye's house.

She easily gets absorbed with what the chalk can do

on the broad expanse of driveway.

Her quiet concentration results in colorful murals

that, in turn,  give me a glimpse of her thoughtful creativity!

We see family portraits

that declare her love for us and

 even show Popeye with his white hair.

As she grows older, her pictures 

have grown more detailed.

They even include our darling artist 

posing in the spirit of her art:

here she shades her eyes from the chalk drawing

entitled "What a sunny morning!

(the actual sun was hiding behind some clouds that day.)

And here our girl rests to recover from

the drawing "What a night!!!"

Our dear granddaughter comes for little weekend

visits and I am always lonely when she has gone.

I am thankful that rain is a rarity here in Central Texas.

Our colorful sidewalk murals remain many days after Gigi

has gone home.   Thank goodness!

The Ethan Bunny

My long distance daughter is faithful in sending pictures via the internet.

It's a terrific way to watch my grandchildren 

grow and change and perform.

An alternative to the warm body, REAL presence,

mind you, but I am very grateful for these frequent up-to-dates.

When this picture came through yesterday...

I could NOT stop laughing!

I had to share it with anyone reading this blog.

Here sits my chubby, happy grandson.

Grasping his fat little hands, he laughs in delight

at this set of bunny ears...

while his eyes are completely covered by the mask.

One may think that the blindfold, however cute,

would upset him.

Not Ethan--he is tickled pink that we can call him

the ETHAN BUNNY!!

(Don't you want to just hug and squeeze this little man?

I know I do!!)

Do Trees Weep?

Once there were trees.

Live oaks, mostly.

These trees grew in open areas, their twisting 

branches forming wide canopies,  reaching heavenward.

Praising God, their Creator.

The leaves remained green all year,

changing over each March to fresh ones--

the new leaves pushing off the old.

Evergreen.

Through summer weeks of drought and heat, they grew.

Birds and animals sheltered in their outstretched limbs.

Cattle rested in their shade.

As God planned it, they absorbed the carbon dioxide we produced and gave back the oxygen we need for survival .

Then one day, in the name of progress,

large orange X's appeared on their silent, ancient trunks.

The birds paid no mind and continued to bring grasses to the growing nests within the branches, preparing for the day the eggs would nestle in these wee beds.

But there would be no eggs this year-nor any future years.

The abrasive noise of grinding engines disrupted the birds and all lifeforms nearby.  

The trees were torn down.

Not cut, but ripped out of the earth, twisted and broken.

Their roots lay bare.

Mangled. 

Disfigured.

The sturdy trees that had grown from a small acorn

and thrived for decades, perhaps a century, now lay

toppled and piled into a mass grave on top of the earth.

With frightening speed and efficiency,

this piece of machinery gathered up those grand trees that were now lying twisted and dying on the ground...

and reduced them to mountains of mulch.

And before we could even grieve for the trees,

these many piles of mulch were scooped into trucks

and swiftly hauled away.

To where, I wondered?

I stood for a long while,

camera in my idle hands,

staring in shock at the stark, barren landscape

in front of me.  

Where only utility lines are standing now--

brief days ago-- countless trees softened this landscape.

And this one oak to the left--

it is no longer there, either.

Who knows the years each of these trees had lived in these very places?

How can man's plans demolish so much life in one week?

One week???!!!

I am having a hard time driving down this road now.

I hear the echoes of weeping--

from the birds, the cattle, the small, scurrying animals...

and the trees themselves.

There will be no nests, no eggs, no fledgling birds.

No exchange of gases to help us breathe.

No shade, no greens, no rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Instead, a 2-lane country road becomes a 4-lane highway.

Noxious emissions from increased traffic will fill our lungs.

When is enough ENOUGH?!

When there are no longer trees but a world of asphalt,

will we mourn then?  Will we regret?

Do trees weep when they are being ripped apart?

I weep for them.  

Do you?

The Swift Passing of 8 Years

Georgina.

We all know you as Gigi.

Today is your 8th birthday.

I have your heart-shaped cake in the oven and my mind is filled with YOU.

It's a good thing that your baby pictures aren't on this computer

or I'd never been able to choose.  

In this Grandma's eyes you will always be that wide-eyed baby girl

lying, just born, in the nursery.

(Sorry, my girl, but it's true.)

*******************************************

You are the one who introduced me to Grandma-hood.

It's a marvelous place to dwell.

Much like motherhood,

but better.  Much better.

During these 8 fleeting years

you, our Valentine girl, have reminded me of some important things in life:

Birthdays are the BEST days of the year.

(We need not focus on the numbers of the candles,

but rather the sweetness of the frosting.)

A bubble bath can soak away any problems.

Someday you will fit into my hat and jewelry.

I must always be on my best behavior

since I am one of the adults you model.

If we surround ourselves with people who love and support us, we can overcome all our fears.

A little drama goes a long way

and adds color to a dull day.

(And hospital sox can serve as ribbons to decorate a bouquet

and Barbie shoes can tap dance on ceramic tile...)

Baking with a friend makes the cookies even sweeter.

Focusing on the beauty of the Christmas ornaments is far lovelier than fretting about the details of the gift lists or menus.

Our world outdoors is ALWAYS waiting for us 
and is filled with wonders!

Grandfathers are patient teachers and...

seeing a complicated project through will bring exciting and worthwhile results!

In other words, don't give up!

Some of our best lifelong friends love us

without even a word.

Gigi, I have watched you grow.

There have been changes, of course,

but your love of reading remains a constant.

And wearing swim goggles inside is just YOU!!!

You're getting a little 8-year-old spunk

as you discover who you are.

Please, please don't rush out of your childhood.

Each day is so precious.

You are looking at this huge expanse of world

out there.  You are one BIG possibility,

filled with abilities and potential.

You are WONDERFUL!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

SURPRISED!!! (yet again...)

I am such a slow learner.

I still expect late January and early February to be winter.

All my years living in the "North Country" of northeast New York State

left a permanent impression of what to expect weatherwise--

according to northern seasons, that is.

So, when I opened the windows here in Texas on Feb 1,

a warm spring breeze blew in to greet me.

And invite me to wander around the yard a bit,

soaking up the sunshine and mild temperatures .

On this meandering walk, let me share what I saw:

a delicate purple crocus,

and creamy yellow ones,

sunny and bright daffodil crying out "Springtime!",

and the promise of Easter lilies everywhere.

A few bottle brush flowers are blooming.

Little butterflies--yellow, white, blue ones--flitted on the blossoms.

This white one was hardly larger than a postage stamp.

It has a bright orange dot just under its eye.

Lovely.  Nature is so diverse.

Back a month ago (yes, the first week of January), 

a flock of my special friends passed through.

At least 25 bluebirds danced around in our trees,

chirping and flying from branch to branch.

One brave little one sat on the wind chime right outside of our

bedroom window.  I reminded him of the old bird houses we had left in

AuSable Chasm in case he was heading that far north.

I wished him well on his journey and told him to

carry this warmth and sunshine on his tail feathers.

Everywhere I looked--down at my feet, up in the trees, 

and in the shrubs--new life is thriving.

The gentle does who share our backyard have subtle swellings

to their sides and I am thankful that wee, spotted fawns will be joining us

come May or June.

I am aware that, even as I sit here on my porch listening to bird song,

the northeast is in the midst of a huge nor'easter snowstorm.

It IS February, after all and that is a natural occurrence.

In New York, that is.  

As much as I long for those mountains and trees in autumn,

I must admit that a February filled with birds, warm breezes, blossoms

and butterflies is a lovely thing to enjoy.