Mr. McBoy

August 30, 2008 | My Joys

Look at that face.  If you didn’t smile when you looked at my firstborn grandson, then I’ll be over with your bolus dose of Zoloft after I finish writing this post.

C. is 6 years old and is in the first grade.  He is the oldest child of my oldest child. And his father is an oldest child too.  If you’ve read my previous post on the Long-Femured Women in my family, you might guess that since C. is the offspring of an LFW and a very tall dad, he is a big boy, much taller than most of his age-mates.

Mr. McBoy has the most endearing, husky little-boy voice.  He is all muscle.  He has a contagious laugh.  He is a good story-teller, who always manages to work a little-boy dragon into his tales.  He knows who our current president is: Washington Bush.  He is confident, smart and friendly, and has no trouble introducing himself to new people.  We have called him Felix (for Felix Unger from The Odd Couple), because he sometimes has persnickety preferences that are unusual for a little boy.  He’s active and enjoys the outdoors, but hates getting dirt on his hands. He is certain that he has superhero powers. 

He watched the women gymnasts in the Olympics this year and when they propelled themselves so high into the air and did amazing round-offs and walkovers, he exclaimed, ”It’s like a MIRACLE!”  He then nonchalantly informed his mother that if he were in the Olympics his sport would be running, because he is already “one of the fastest runners in the world.”  

About me, he commented to his father, “Daddy, Grandma really likes God and Jesus, doesn’t she?” He is sweetly affectionate. He tells me on the phone that he loves me and misses me, and will soon come to my house to stay a week with Grandpa and Grandma.  Years ago he asked what the red birds on his family’s Christmas tree were called, and could only remember them as “birdinals”.  Today the creek in our back yard is named Birdinal Creek because of that word he unknowingly made up.

Mr. McBoy loves to do anything with his daddy.  They do man things together, like hiking, going to Daddy’s workplace and buying pickles.  He thinks he is the boss of his two little sisters.  He is very competitive and wants to win at all costs, whether it involves a game of UNO with his Grandpa who lives in Missouri, or a battle he’s creating on his bedroom floor with his army guys.

He resembles and walks like his daddy, but he has been painted from his mama’s palette - he has her hair and skin color and light eyes.

When C. was a baby he used to hold both his chubby little fists in the sign-language letter “E” position and wave them around in tight little circles.  We knew he was signing to us: “Excellent! Extraordinary! Enthusiastic!”, because after all, that’s what he was. And is. 

I am proud and happy to share about my excellent, extraordinary, enthusiastic firstborn grandson.  I love him so.

Ginny

August 28, 2008 | My Joys

If you don’t know Ginny, you are really missing out.  She and I have been friends for about eleven years now, but it seems like we’ve known each other since first grade.  Sometimes it feels like we were twins separated at birth and then returned to each other’s lives as middle-aged women. 

She’s the first to admit that she’s a sanguine party animal by nature, and I believe everyone always has a great time with Ginny.  But she’s also quick to remind her friends  that “this ain’t the party”, helping us to look past our current hard times and to never forget that untold joys await on the other side.  

Ginny is one of the first people I go to if I need prayer. I always know Ginny will pray. And keep praying.  I cherish this about her.

If you meet Ginny and become even slightly acquainted with her, she will very quickly christen you with a nickname.  Sometimes the nicknames make sense: she calls my husband Michael “Mickey”, and she calls me “Jewel”.  I like that.  She calls my youngest daughter Sara “Bubba”.  Now Sara no more looks like a Bubba than Queen Elizabeth does, but because Ginny says it with such fondness, somehow it just seems right.

Ginny’s passion, I think, lies in the word connection.  She’s someone who has a passion to see people connect with each other and with God - she wants people to feel welcomed, included and loved right away, and no one else makes that happen quite like Virginia Kay.  She would eradicate loneliness from the face of the earth today if she had the power to do so, and sometimes I think she just might. 

She likes to connect with her friends on a deep, sharing level. She cares, she calls, she listens, she laughs, she prays out loud for me and makes me feel loved. She knows how to put people in touch with whatever it is they need, whether it’s a wallpaper hanger, a restaurant, a blazer that’s 32 inches long, or Almighty God Himself.

She has nurtured women young and old in the faith for years. She says she can’t bake and can barely cook, yet each time she invites me for a meal I end up salivating all over the table and begging for the recipe. She loves the “type and shadow” found in the Bible and her huge eyes fill with tears when she learns a new truth.  Ginny and I were in a book club together for ten years.  We go to the same church. We have husbands with similar interests, primarily food and guns fishing and travel. We love attending Community Bible Study together.  And we are very partial to our Danskos. 

Ginny has never chosen to have children of her own.  I once asked her why and she cracked me up by responding, “I didn’t have kids because I didn’t want to wreck anyone - I was pretty sure mine would end up being the ones who sit on the tops of buildings with rifles in their hands.”  Yet she is the most maternal, wise, insightful, nurturing woman you could meet.  I recently heard this phrase and it so applies to Ginny: that girl could mother a fencepost.

For my last birthday she took the time to write out fifty of our memories, on fifty small strips of paper. I cried fifty tears and thanked God fifty times for a “jewel” of a friend like her. 

Meet Ginny.  If you don’t know her yet, you should.  Your nickname awaits you.

The Big Picture

August 26, 2008 | My Jottings

This is what’s turning around and around in my mind this morning: The Big Picture. More specifically, The Big Picture of Life. 

I am not a Big Picture person.  I am a detail person.  I would never contribute much to a committee established to bring visionary leadership to any group or company. I’m the person they would hire if they wanted their files straight, their pencils in one cup and their pens in another, and their teaspoons all nesting perfectly together.  If someone wanted their towels folded first in halves, then in thirds and piled in a visually appealing way, their checkbook ledgers reconciled with their monthly statements to the penny, and their keys always at hand, then I am their gal.  I have noticed that no one is lined up at my door clamoring to enlist my services, although I do think my husband appreciates the order now and then.

But I usually lose sight of The Big Picture. Detail people can do that easily. This morning I remembered that in relationships, especially in marriage, details are very important, but The Big Picture should be always on the front burners of the mind and heart.

I read an interview several months ago that jarred my thinking, and I thought of it this morning.  A fairly well-known Christian singer was talking about marriage and how difficult it can be, with two people bringing to the mix their different pieces of baggage, their patterns, their expectations, their weaknesses.  She said that in her marriage, especially when she and her husband disagree or experience tension, she asks herself (and then answers) this question: “What is the ultimate goal here? The ultimate goal isn’t to win the fight, it’s to build a life together.” 

People who love details usually love to be right.  But today as I consider The Big Picture, I am reminded that our ultimate goal is to build a life together.  It’s not so important being right. It’s more important to be loving.  This is a challenging lesson for me, because my default mode is not love, it’s truth. Learning to speak and work and glance and touch and listen in love, in love, is like driving on the left side of the road for me, in a car with the steering wheel on the right side and the stick shift at my left hand.  I tried this in Great Britain a couple of years ago.  It can be done, but it takes intense concentration and determination, and God’s help. 

So today I’m thinking about The Big Picture. What do I want things to look like in five years?  In twenty-five years?  When I peer ahead in my imagination to try to envision what kind of life we might have, files and towels don’t come to mind.  At all.  One thing that comes to mind is a DVD mini-series I just watched - a gift from my daughter Sharon for Mother’s Day. It’s called John Adams and is about the second President of the United States. It’s beautifully done and so worth watching.

Apparently John and Abigail Adams had a very devoted, honest, loving and intensely loyal relationship. In their letters to each other and often in person, they called each other “My dearest friend”.  The tenderness with which they regarded each other was so moving, and even into old age they seemed to both know that the other was their greatest treasure.

One doesn’t reach a marital place like this without keeping The Big Picture in mind. Details are important, but “what is the ultimate goal here?…it’s to build a life together.”  Today I am very keenly aware of what kind of building I want to do.  I need God’s help to do it, but with God, all things are possible.  (Matt. 19:26)

Indentured Schnauzitude

August 23, 2008 | My Jottings

Old and young. Calm and anxious. Intelligent and not-much-upstairs. Long-suffering and impatient. Wiry and curly. Dark and light. Tolerant and instigating. Endearing and annoying. Edith and Mildred. (Edith Elaine Bubbleloo and Mildred Virginia Sizzlelorum, but their full names will be addressed in another post).

These are our Miniature German Schnauzers. Edith is on the left and she’s six years old, and Mildred “Millie” is two.  Other than their size, breed and slaves owners, they have very little in common.

Edith is the quintessential Schnauzer: alert, affectionate, bright, and devoted to her people. Millie was born in Nebraska, so maybe that has something to do with her aberrant ways. She needs The Dog Whisperer in the worst way. She, too, has many of the Schnauzer traits, but we’re still waiting for her to grow out of her puppy stage. She pees on the floor when new people say her name, she enjoys shredding pre-driven Kleenex with her teeth, she inhales her food and then greedily lurks behind Edith as she’s slowly savoring hers, and she tries to get Edith to wrestle about every twenty minutes or so.  Edith endures it like a martyr, looking at us resigned and sighing, “See what I go through for you?”

Our dogs sit on our furniture, watch our television (a photo of that will be coming in another post), occupy the greatest space on our bed, demonstrate several times a day how efficient their digestive systems are, and pretty much run our lives. It’s called Indentured Schnauzitude. We signed up for it, and the contract reads something like this: “In exchange for the best of food, a large, comfortable human bed and several overstuffed chairs, regular vet visits, expensive minty Booda Bone chews, quarterly grooming, unlimited wildlife in the yard for loud yipping and shrieking practice, and an abundance of ear-scratching and Teletubbies viewing, Edith and Millie agree to live with the slaves Michael and Julie.”  Maybe we should have procured legal counsel before we signed on the dotted line? 

We sure love these little dooginses, though.  Dogs can really make your lives happy.

A Love Story

August 22, 2008 | My Jottings

If you’re visiting today, be sure to click on the My Joys part of this site, so you can read about some wonderful people in my life.  I’ll talk about friends and family in My Joys, and I hope you enjoy reading about Diane today. Remembering her poetry caused me to recall one of my poems.  My poetry is like a Ford Fairlane compared to Diane’s Bentley, but I’ll be brave enough to share anyway.  I wrote this poem about eight years ago to tell of Michael’s and my unique love story. Those of you who know us will recall that Michael and I were engaged before we ever met, and married after only meeting each other once.  After 27 years he is still the only one for me.

(I’ve never put a title to this poem - if you have any suggestions I would gladly consider them!)

In Southern California in a home near the beach

He wouldn’t, she knew, and their lives were all changed
And she chafed and she wept for those things rearranged
By her God, who had seemingly, mercilessly scattered
The scraps of their life as a family, now tattered.

Off to work this mom went and the Lord did provide
And the pain, it diminished, and the three of them tried
To live every day with a smile and a song
And God helped them and met them as they walked along

Then one day a letter she found in her mail
From a man in Duluth, Minnesota, and his tale
Was the same as hers was — an unwanted divorce
At 30 he’d met Jesus, who put him on course

They wrote and they spoke on the telephone each day
They sent photos, they shared, and they’d quietly pray
In less than a month he had asked her to marry
But they hadn’t met, and the woman was wary

She loved him and felt that his love was a gift
But her 23-year old feet had not touched a snowdrift
From warm, sunny California to frigid Minnesota?
In terms of life’s stresses, had she exceeded her quota?

They met only once before tying the knot
Each one felt so certain of the treasure they’d bought
The woman quit her job, left her kin and her friends
And knew for the first time, that yes, a heart mends

So the Lord gave a sign and they made the big leap
With her family all present they promised to keep
The vows that they said — they were so joyful hearted!
Three months after that letter, for Duluth they departed

Fairy tales say “they lived happily ever after”
And their home for awhile was filled with bright laughter
The blizzards, they came, and the cold, it amazed her
By spring her blood thickened; the weather hadn’t fazed her

In less than a year a new daughter was born
But the cloth of their marital bliss was now torn
For the man and the woman, despite their great love
Had some lessons to learn from the Teacher above

He wanted to mold them, to hone them, to polish
If they were to be Christlike, He’d have to demolish
Their stubbornness, selfishness, anger and greed
God’s plan for the couple was that His Word they’d heed

There were years of home schooling, and daughters’ emotions
Their ups and their downs and their tears that made oceans
There were days when the woman was sure that her life
Would never be free from confusion and strife

But the Lord was so generous, constant and kind
He always brought healing and true peace of mind
The couple had humor and friendship and they
Learned slowly that adversity helped them obey

Soon many years passed and their daughters had grown
Those beautiful girls were striking out on their own
The man and the woman, they looked on, astounded
And saw much answered prayer from those Gates they had pounded

From that first special letter to their love story today
There is one scarlet thread that has woven its way
Through the deaths and the triumphs they have known through the years
In the heartbreak and doubt, in the troubles and fears

This thread has been present when money was lacking
When the woman, offended, in her mind began packing
It ran through the days when no good thing was missing
The thread wound its way through the hugs and the kissing

The years that have passed almost number nineteen
And the woman has aged and isn’t nearly as lean
And the man who had brown hair is now fully gray
But they have not, they do not, they never will stray

From each other’s embraces, from the shield of the Lord
From His mercy and grace, from the blood He has poured
From the chastening He brings, from the pruning He gives
From the song in their hearts that cries out “Jesus lives!”

When she reached her forties the woman surveyed
That the scraps of their lives had been carefully laid
While faded and tattered and worthless to some
They’d been magnificently stitched by the One who had come

To show them the Way and the Life and the Truth
That He’s right in their midst there in arctic Duluth
The man and the woman know their story of love
Is the handiwork of their dear, faithful Father above.

This couple still lives, and they yet are quite flawed
But as long as their hearts beat they’ll be molded by God
His plyings, severe, and yet merciful, truly
Tell the story of Michael and his sweetheart Julie

Diane

My Joys

Let me introduce you to Diane. 

We met in the early part of 1977 when we were both very pregnant and taking childbirth education classes with our husbands.  Our friendship was thus conceived at the celebrated and distinguished Yuba College in Yuba City, CA, birthed at Beale AFB in Marysville, nurtured in Germany, and has grown and flourished through decades of letters, visits and talks on the phone.

Diane has had adventures many of us only dream about. She has traveled the world, and lived in a good portion of it: Guam, Korea, The Azores Islands, Germany, and yes, even Louisiana.  She’s a native Southern Californian, as I am, and even though she’s thinking toward retirement, she exudes optimism and youth and resilience, and she knows how to make a new beginning when one is called for.

This woman can write. You and I will see her name on book covers someday.  She is a sensitive poet and has published many pieces. She’s working on a novel that will cause me to someday say proudly, “I knew her when….”  Much of our friendship has been conducted through the written word, long before electronic mail, and on the days I found a thick letter from Diane with that familiar tiny handwriting in my mailbox, I would return inside my house and plop down on the couch, anxious to savor what she wrote.  I still have most of her letters. 

In 1988, after moving to an island off the coast of Portugal, she described their house to me: “We live in a 200-year old house which used to be a convent. It is by far the most interesting (although possibly the least comfortable!) home we’ve ever had, although we are taking steps to make it more homey. It’s large and stark, as befits a convent, with high ceilings, thick wooden doors and shutters (which we close at night to keep out the howling wind) - and it’s made of whitewashed volcanic rock. We have 4 bedrooms, a big kitchen/dining room, a small frontroom and bathroom, and a long, spooky hall.”  Can you see why I wanted to hop on a plane at once and go right to where she was?  I wanted to hear and feel that howling wind off the Atlantic, I wanted to tiptoe down that spooky hall and hear those ancient doors creak.  And I wanted to sit and have coffee with Diane so we could talk and laugh and connect.  I still do.

Diane has three remarkable grown children. She was an effective and well-loved high school teacher. She still teaches at the college level. She paints. She travels. She does unexpected and adventurous things like purchase wild, untamed land in Alaska on which to someday build a cabin, and considers up and moving to different states where she might have a new start, a desert climate and a writing casita. 

Generous. That’s what Diane is. Generous with her encouragement and words of cheer.  Generous with the way she listens, gets acquainted with people, and imparts comfort and hope into their lives. She’s a woman so generous, even lavish with patience and goodwill toward others.

She came into my life bearing a gift - she knocked on my front door at Beale AFB and handed me a lovely wrapped present for my newborn daughter.  She continues to give so much to me all these years later, and I honestly can’t imagine my life without her. 

Meet Diane.

Susan

August 20, 2008 | My Joys

Let me introduce you to Susan.

I met Susan when she and her husband Dale moved next door to us over ten years ago. We became friends quickly and often had tea and Pillsbury Orange Rolls together at each others’ tables. She gave me some of the best recipes I’ve ever had and still use, such as Athenian Couscous Salad.

We talked about books, God, marriage, children, about not going home again, aging parents, dogs, and the joys and sadness of life. She is a brilliant woman - a geologist by profession who knows her asbestos! - but she is also one of the most kind and humble people I’ve ever met. You would never know by just visiting with her that she could probably demolish you in Jeopardy; instead you would immediately feel that she could be a soft place to land and a person you could implicitly trust.

She loves all things Egyptian. She is so honest and allowed me to know her, and wanted to know me. A little bit shy by nature, she stepped out of her comfort zone and dressed as a clown for my birthday one year (along with many other clown friends). “See how much I love you?” she smiled. And I was so touched.

She found out I had a hubcap obsession and gave me old hubcabs planted with flowers. She and her husband Dale asked my husband Michael and me to sponsor their children Will and Zoe when they were baptized, and we will never forget the sacred glow of those days. We used to wave at each other through our windows. We used to eat Vietnamese food together on New Year’s Eve.

Susan and her family eventually moved to the southern part of our state and we now have to rely on occasional phone calls and e-mails. I hope we can visit in person before too many years fly by. She will always be one of my most cherished friends, and I never eat an orange roll anymore without feeling like I’m betraying our friendship in some way.

Meet Susan. To know her is a great gift.

Old friends and new…

August 19, 2008 | My Jottings

“A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.”   Unknown

I love this quote and find it so true in my own life. 

Aside from a place where I can share my goofy observations and serious contemplations, I am excited to share about my friends on this blog.  God has used each of my friends to impact my life in ways that no one else could.  Some of my friends have spoken much needed truth to me.  Some have been so patient with me when it would have been easier to wring my neck.  Some have faithfully cheered me up in very melancholy times.  Some of my friends have given to me and served our family in amazingly generous ways.  But every friend I’ve been blessed with has, in their own way, “known the song in my heart and sung it back to me when I’ve forgotten the words.” 

I have never wanted my friends to be exclusively mine. I love them so much I want others to know and love them too. So over the next several weeks I’m going to introduce some of my friends to you, and share a little about how they’ve all enriched my life.

You can read about my friends in the My Joys section of this site.  And if any of you are so inclined, I’d love to hear about one special thing a friend has done for you.

Do you have a life verse?

August 18, 2008 | My Jottings

My life verse is Job 23:12. 

I have not departed from the commands of His lips;                                                   I have treasured the words of His mouth more than my daily bread.  (NIV)

A life verse is a verse or passage from the Bible that is very significant for you.  Some people choose a life verse because it was that scripture that cut through the darkness and revealed to them their need for Christ.  Some choose a particular verse for the hope and encouragement it speaks into their specific circumstances.  Another may feel a certain passage truly sums up what God has done in her life.  And then there are people who choose a life verse because that’s what they hope to see become a reality in their lives, through God’s love and power. This is why Job 23:12 is a verse I’ve memorized and have clung to for years now.  It isn’t a full reality in my life yet.  But I want to someday be able to look back at my life and point to Jesus and say with confidence, “Through His mercy and constant care and enabling patience, I have not turned away from His ways; He has caused me to truly love the brilliance and wonder of His Word more than even the food I crave every day.”

Some days my life verse is a concrete reality for me.  When I sit in my chair in the mornings and ask God to speak into my dry and needy life as I open His Word, the ways in which He often does that are so personal and amazing that I cry and marvel all at once. 

Other days I sadly feel that I have treasured my daily bread more than the words of His mouth.  So I would say that God is beckoning me to allow this verse to become a scripture that accurately sums up my life.  Does it now?  No.  But will it someday?  I sincerely pray that it will. 

Do you have a special verse or passage in the Bible that is significant to you?  If you are a Christian and don’t have a “life verse”, I encourage you to ask God to give you one.  Ask Him to show you in the way that only He can, what scripture He wants to bring to completion in your life.  Then perhaps you could memorize that verse, post it in various places in your house, to help you keep it in the forefront of your mind, and begin to rehearse it over and over.  Whatever we most rehearse in our minds is what we will end up believing, and what we believe is what we live. I want my  rehearsals, my beliefs and my living to be a little different these days.

One of the hardest things about walking with Jesus in our culture is turning down the volume of the world enough to hear His whispers.  When I’m up and running in the morning, getting medications and lunches and laundry going for our foster care gals, it seems so hectic that even before an hour has passed I feel weary.  But if I will carefully tune my ear to Him, I can sometimes hear Him whisper.  I live for those times.

If you read this post, will you share what your life verse is with me?  You don’t have to post it as a comment if you don’t want to, but it might be encouraging to someone else if you do.  E-mail if you prefer.  But wouldn’t it be wonderful if He whispered something personal to you from His Word, something that was on His heart about you and the days He has numbered for you?

Learning to listen,

Blogging, Kombucha and a pixie

August 16, 2008 | My Jottings

I really do not have the time to blog more than once every few days, but since this is all so new, it seems to call from the office to me.  I was mashing avocadoes to make guacamole and I suddenly remembered that I had a bottle of Kombucha in the fridge.  So I need to talk about Kombucha.

Two of my daughters have encouraged me to drink Kombucha, but I discarded that idea once I had a tiny sip -  it is very sharp, very vinegary and yeasty.  However, one daughter really gave me the hard sell the other day.  She talked about how she didn’t like it either, how other friends encouraged her to try it and that it made them feel really good and healthy, and how she now really enjoys it.  She said it actually makes her feel more clear-headed and more energetic.  Hmmm.  And it’s not a drug? 

“Just drink one bottle,” she said.  So I have 1/8 of a bottle of Divine Grape Kombucha down and am going to persevere to see if I am more clear-headed and energetic.  I could certainly use both of those attributes lately.

It’s not tasty at all.  But the bottle assures me it will “rejuvenate, restore, revitalize, replenish and regenerate.”  You can be sure I’ll be reporting if any of these re- words become a re-ality for me.

One more tidbit: aside from being a new blogger and drinking Kombucha for the first time, I also recently had all my hair chopped off.  I think it would be called a pixie, but I’m afraid it’s possibly even shorter than that.  About an inch long.  While I’m paring down many things in my life of late, I added my hair to the list.

The next time I post I’m going to tell why I chose Job 23:12 as the Bible verse I wanted on my site. 

Have you tried Kombucha?  Do you like it?  Does it make you feel different?  I’m interested in knowing…