Communion

Some mornings five a.m. is as long as I can stay in bed. I have the soul of a 25 year old but the bladder of a 62 year old. Once that deep sleep is disturbed, there is nothing to do except get up. My mind slowly begins to function, and I can’t help but think of all there is to accomplish in the coming day. With conscious thought comes that wide awake state where I can lie there in bed only so long before I begin to squirm and stretch and by then, sleep is out of the question. So I am up.

What a beautiful Christmas eve we spent!

We had a Christmas eve service at church at five in the afternoon (early so families could come and then have the whole evening with each other afterwards). It was a brief service. We sang no hymns nor did we recite any liturgies. We simply came together to hear the Christmas story read by the pastor (my dh Jim) and then have communion. The church was decorated so beautifully, and this evening service just lent that special soft lighting of candles and tree lights which made everything special. During communion a trio of wonderful musicians played and sang: a pianist, a preteen violinist, and a vocalist. I was so touched, my tears started almost the moment my husband said his first words of welcome.

Sitting there amidst these most loving people I just began to weep. Not only the love and joy and unspoken embracing of a kinship of us all touched me, but the reason we were there. I’m not a very demonstrative person when it comes to my religion. I’m a private person with some things. My relationship with God is one of those things. I don’t often talk of it. I don’t often demonstrate it in more than quiet little ways. But I felt such a powerful one-ship with God and with all of those wonderful people all around me that I just wept from being so emotionally moved.

After communion and the dismissing with a blessing, the pastor (my husband of 42 years) moved among everyone with words of love and rejoicing and that special bonding of pastor and parishioners. The whole evening was so beautiful. And even the fact that he left his lapel mic open (forgot to turn it off) and stepped outside in front of the church to see everyone away to their homes… and his voice still echoed in the sanctuary with each word of farewell or soft teasing to a child about Santa or special words to someone who needed them… that only made those of us still exiting the sanctuary smile and chuckle. The feeling of family prevailed. For we are all of the same family. The family of God.

These thoughts are the ones that kept me from sleeping this morning. Nothing huge or no looming list of things to get done today. Just simple joy relived through thought… through remembrance.

May God bless you.

(As he has blessed me.)

Run, Run, Run

During this season of the year, all we seem to do is run, run, run. We pause only to grab some sleep and catch our breaths. I’m not a person who loves running. In fact, I seldom move faster than a sedate stroll.

We spent a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday with our son and his new wife, and two step-sons, our daughter, and then on Saturday, our other daughter, and her family joined us. We ate and ate and played games and enjoyed the warm indoors. Between running the dishwasher and showers, I think we must have used twice the normal amount of water as for any other similar time period. What a clean bunch we were!

This is the first week of Advent, and with it, there are the beginnings of many seasonal obligations — and pleasures. Two potlucks today alone. You betcha, I’m utilizing my crock pot!  Tomorrow a meal out and a trip to see Christmas lights with a group from church. Thursday a much-needed trip to my beautician. My hair has reached that “nanner, nanner, nanner, you-can’t-control-me-any-more” stage. Saturday is our clergy family Christmas party. This will probably be the quietest week.

Oh, but come December 26th, and we’re off to the northeastern part of the state and our retirement home. This trip will be wild because we will be traveling in a pickup truck (NOT one of those trucks with a back seat), and we’ll have our animal carrier in the seat between Jim and me. Our two cats will be vying for space, and the older cat, Girlie, will probably win. She is huge. Poor little Max doesn’t have a chance. I’m sure we’ll be treated to a chorus of cat songs during that four hour drive.

Ah, but when we arrive, friends and parties await. On the agenda will be a trip to our favorite Mexican restaurant, a New Year’s Eve party at a friend’s, and perhaps a day trip to the gambling boat on the Mississippi River (only about 40 minutes from Rector). We always enjoy getting away from our regular routine, and the house at Rector is just right for that. I grew up in that house, with my grandmother and step-grandfather. We call it our cottage because of its size: two tiny bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, kitchen, and added on laundry room. Oh, and did I mention the little mysteries that abound in that house? Like doors that open and close on their own. Lights that turn on by themselves. A knocking that we can never locate. Plugged in appliances and devices (the television) that unplug themselves. (Not turn themselves off and on, but UNplug from the wall.) Oh, yes, there are mysteries there in that little cottage on Valley Street where two of my step-grandfathers passed on to the world beyond this one. At least we think they did.  We’ll see how the new cat reacts to everything. A nice week away will be a treat.

Time to get busy.

Later, y’all. 

Dish Cloths

Yes. I’ve been having fun with knitting lately. It’s a fun way to spend time with your feet up.

I don’t think I have the patience for large projects, so I’ve been sticking with quick little projects. I’ve only recently discovered the 100 percent cotton thread/yarn, and I’m taking full advantage of its use for dish cloths.

When we moved here to Rison, we received several cotton yarn dish cloths, all hand-knitted. I’d never realized these could be used to wash dishes. They’re great, except with the looseness of the knit, they need to be washed often. A good idea is to run about an inch of water in your kitchen sink at night and add a few drops of bleach. Leave the knitted dish cloths soaking overnight. Any left-in food particles etc will be removed easily upon rinsing, and bacteria don’t have a chance.

Sooooo… on to my new passion.

There is a multitude of free patterns on the internet, and I’m taking advantage of several delightful designs. I’ve two finished dish cloths, and am working on another. The colors of these cotton yarns fascinate me, and I’ve bought a wide variety. Perhaps I’ll knit dish cloths for all my friends for Christmas. Hey! They’re quick and easy and to some people, might be considered a novelty. Besides, they’re really useful!

Later, y’all. 

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

I love waking up to the smell of coffee brewing. I’ve missed that this week while my husband has been out of town. This week I’ve had to get up and make the coffee, rather than reaping the pleasure from having it brewing when I awake. Miss you, Jim. Hurry home. 

Autumn is glorious this year in south central Arkansas. Or is it every year? Maybe I’m succeeding at last in living in the moment because I can’t imagine any time this sweet.

Aches and pains and frustrations still abound, but that’s life.

I’m talking here about waking up to a bright new day and finding that all is right with the world.

I know there is much wrong in this world. Not much I can do other than what I do now to help that. My meager contributions and work with raising money and awareness of the needs of those unfortunate in this world doesn’t seem much, but it’s more than I have done in the past.

Despite my recent blues, deep inside I am content. My children and grandchildren all thrive and live active and happy lives. My mother and I are existing in a peace we’ve never known before. My husband is busy, healthy and living his most fulfilled life ever. All is truly right in my world.

Thank you, God.

This morning I awoke with the joy of knowing that two friends slept in our guest rooms. Neither are early morning people, so I knew I’d have time for coffee and a few words here before either stirred. I was right.  Though they’ll be traveling home later this morning, I look forward to the few hours left in our visit.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Famous or infamous words, there. This morning I feel the sentiment of them deeply.

Later, y’all!

Dennis

Sitting up in bed last night and watching the coverage of the fires in California made me think of a dear friend from San Diego who had been a fireman there. 

We first met Dennis when my childhood friend married him and brought him home to meet everyone. He had been a fireman and was injured several times. From falling through at least one roof (two I think), he’d damaged his hips. He was a man in his 50’s when we met him, drawing disability for his injuries. He suffered a lot with hip pain. Both hips had been replaced, one twice.

He loved the small town where we lived then, the place where my friend’s family and mine had lived for generations.  But when he and my friend bought a huge old two-story house that Jim and I had once owned, I was surprised — and thrilled. 

For the next few years the friendship grew and a deep bond was formed. Dennis was like a dear brother to us, and at last (after a lifetime of only seeing my childhood friend in snatches of a few days or weeks at most) we had my friend only a few blocks away.  Then Jim went into the ministry, and we began to move around to the churches he served.

Although gone from Dennis and my friend, we knew we would all spend our retirement years together in that small town we all loved. Whenever we’d go to visit our daughters and their families, we would visit with Dennis and Christa, sometimes even staying at their house. Those visits were precious. We didn’t realize how precious until Dennis got sick.

The ultimate diagnosis was not good. We lost Dennis in 2004 at the age of 59.

I still cry thinking of him, thinking of this fine man who was taken from those who loved him at an age when he should have been planning the next 20 years of his retirement. He was a fine man indeed. He was a people person. Despite his disabilities, he worked hard to help his new neighbors and friends. He was always there in a disaster, pitching in with his knowledge of emergency medical aid and just plain general knowledge of what to do. When tornadoes hit nearby, he was among the first to go and offer help.

He was a large man, a kind man, a gentle man. And yet he was a rock. He was a product of California’s beach culture of the 60’s, a surfer, a big blond man who was handsome beyond belief. I will never forget him. Times like last night, when I was watching the fires that are destroying so much of the place that he called home for most of his 59 years, touched deep into my soul and brought back all this love and loss to me. Today I’ll call Christa, for I know in my heart that she is feeling these same things during this tragedy that is befalling those in California.

Please pray for those who are suffering. These fires are going to have so much more impact on ALL of us in this nation than any tragedy that has ever befallen us in the past. Even more than Katrina. Just think about it. And then say a prayer.

Later, y’all.

(P.S. I’ll never forget your stroganoff, either, Dennis.)