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Uncovering Renewal

We have lived in The House on Wood Street for twenty years. I was thinking on this the other night as the stairs and the first two rooms have been uncovered. The house was built in 1904 and stands firmly next to the redwood trees on the corner. One Hundred and Twenty years old, I am thinking it’s time for a celebration.

We moved in on a cold day in January 2005. My parents were the first visitors. Our first foster daughter moved in as we were unpacking. T and L and R were our first babies of the house. These stairs taught them how to climb. They used them as a sled run, riding cardboard down and landing into a wall of couch pillows.

Many times I have walked these stairs at the end of the day giving thanks and thinking of others who came before me. I read once that walls hold memories and sounds and I am mindful of filling the timbers with more laughter then sorrow, more hopes and dreams then disappointments. I am not finished with that quest and we have rolled up our sleeves to be about the task of purging out and sprucing up.

You see we are talking about and planning what is next for us. Our youngest is in High School and we find ourselves close to an empty nest. As we plan for retirement or changes, I realize in all of my life, I have lived in this house the longest.

I may be sentimental but I love change. Stagnant water does not bring life. This house has 6 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms, a large back yard with a carriage house, vegetable garden and fruit trees. It’s a lot for just two people.

Today I was sitting on the front porch spinning fiber into yarn. A young family with a stroller and a dog walked by. If I sit still and stop whistling, people rarely even notice. I once told my daughter that I hoped to become the eccentric old lady on the corner. She assures me, I have arrived.

We have a plan and we are knee deep in rejuvenation. New paint, New Flooring, New Furniture. Out with the old and unused, dig deep into the corners and the closets. Broken abandoned and repurposed. I even pruned and repotted the sprawling plant that has climbed up through the lamp and was clinging to the window curtain rod. The leaves were turning yellow, it was too heavy and the roots were bound. Tending to and growing requires the willingness to water deep and prune back. Let new light in and see what grows back and what has served its purpose.

This is a time of discovery. We had a plan for the stairs. It was detailed and complex. As the tattered worn and dirty carpet was pulled way we found the original beauty and detail in craftsmanship. They are delightful. Not yet restored but uncovered and stand ready for renewal.

When Holding on is Letting Go

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be They name; They kingdom come; They will be done on earth as it is in Heaven…”

I must admit, I expected a miracle on my terms with in my realm of understanding.

We met Kyle Vonfeldt when he was just a few days old right out of the hospital. Our family and the two Vonfeldt families had a planned camping trip to the coast. Kyle was born to adventure and his parents showed him the way. Our Daughter, Sissy Laree, was 6 wks old and Her bestie, Chelsea, was 11 days the eldest. This was the beginnings of a lifetime of splashing and dancing through the ups and downs that came their way.

On Wednesday May 5th, Sis got a phone call from Chels, that Kyle was found unresponsive and in ICU. We knew without a doubt that a miracle was just around the corner. That’s how it is with faith, we are hardwired to believe.

As a minister of the gospel, I stand on the Word of God that proclaims the healing power of Christ Jesus and I have seen many miracles in my life time. I also know full well that the mysteries of life are not understandable. It says in Ecclesiastes that there is a time to every purpose under Heaven; A time to be born and a time to die…That is of little comfort when it comes time to let go.

On May 10th, the day after Mother’s Day, it was declared that Kyle’s brain was unresponsive. His organs were fully intact and operational and there in lies the miracle. You see, Kyle was a registered organ donor. This lifted the burden of choice from the shoulders of his father. His gift of life and love would be transferred to those waiting and wishing and praying for their miracle.

It is said in Proverbs 20:11 “Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure and whether it be right.”

John 15:13 says, “Greater love has no one than this, that a person will lay down his own life for his friend”

On Thursday May 13th Kyle went into surgery and gave the miracle of life to four people. They were not friends per say, but Kyle never knew a stranger. He was as kind and giving in life as he was in death. I have looked on line to find that the green ribbon is the designated symbol for organ donation awareness. I have a pink dot on my drivers license and I will be rocking the green ribbon in honor of our dear one who gave without question and loved beyond reason.

Kyle was preceded in death by his mother and grandparents. May they be rejoicing with him on the other side with a BBQ and a beautiful spot on the river.

Our love and prayers for his family as they walk the hardest path of loving and letting go.

I Love to Watch You Live

They found their way to our home when our second child was fourteen, the boys next door. They brought with them brown eyed sparkles that told me they were up to something. I liked “something” and welcome them with open heart and a firm hand. Between the brown eyed boys and the crew that emerged from the house on Wood Street, a bond was formed that was palatable. The organic display was one to behold. It was at times hard to watch but you could not look away. They were visible without effort and oftentimes had no awareness of the shadow they cast on others who were looking through key holes wondering how to turn the latch and enter in.

Going away to school, to work, to play, they navigated adulthood. They wrestled, they loved, they lust, they lost. It was tragic; I held my breath. They gathered in a circle and cried each other’s tears, held each other tight, breathed each other’s breath and sweat each other’s fears.

I was honored a year later to have lunch with a few that had gathered to remember and to be. A drive to the coast was in the wind and they all piled in one truck. Fussing and fighting and laughing and music filled the air, they drove off in a flurry. I wanted to call after them, “buckle up, drive safe.”

I caught myself, they had known safe. He was the youngest of the pack. He had gone to school, got his degree, and landed that job he had hoped for. It was his nine to five. Driving home from work that day he would be taken from them. Some how they had made it through the year. I cried and whispered, “I love to watch you live.”

I have had my own wrestling in these years that followed. I have loved and I have lost. I am finding my way and navigating a plan. I started by clearing my mind and now it’s time to make a list. I give way to prayer and ask The Father to help me make it. I heard him gently whisper, “I love to watch you live.”

We Make Cookies

It was a hard day, I was done. Dinner over and the solitude of my bedroom surrounded me with just the right kinda’ cozy. There is a gentle knock and the youngest finds his way to tell me about his day, of trading at school, and his teacher being out sick. With one glance he knows that something is not right. My necklaces are tosseled in a clump on my dressing table. “Your necklaces” he says with a quiet knowing, he begins to gently untangle them. They are a mass of gifted treasures that have become a mess. Much like the compartments of my heart. He gently untangles and lays them neatly side by side, giving each his full attention. Making mention of favorites and asking questions. Each one has a story, I keep most to myself. His favorite is my oldest piece, gifted to me from my own grandmother. There is no need to tell him to be careful, he is using his own initiative to make this right. I am blessed beyond measure.

He settles back in his chair, we have not had much to say. I haven’t told him that my heart is heavy and that I wonder if my mothering is sufficient. He knows nothing of the charges that my eldest son faces or the unpredictable outcome of today’s court case, and yet he looks me straight in the face and says, “Let’s make cookies.

I am smiling now as I watch him. An old soul or one who has been taught well. You see it has been a long standing tradition, we make cookies.

As a child, I would come home a bit fussed up from my day. Mom could tell by the click in my step and the sharpness of my heal. No words between us, she would set out the bowl and the recipe. She had a special plan for days like this, cookies. Not just any cookies, she had a batch that had to be made with your hands. They were rightfully called aggression cookies. We first had to go to the sink and wash and scrub off the day. A big batch with gooey hands and little correction. I knew if I did well, they came out delightful. If I was too mad and sassy, I would put to much of this, and not enough of that, and I would have a mess. She would gently remind me. Pay attention.

I am sitting now by the wood stove in my kitchen. I am drinking tea and my heart is happy. The gentle reminder of my mother’s voice, “Pay attention. Do not let the troubles of today cause too much of this and not enough of that, you are not a mess.”

Milk Toast

PC: Cheebo Frazier

If you’ve had it, you know it, Milk Toast. Some might think it’s comfort food. I have never found comfort in a piece of bread floating in milk.

“…because you are lukewarm and neither hot nor cold, I shall spit you out of my mouth.” Rev. 3:16

I have known this passage for sometime. I have scratched my head and turned around on it. Did you ever look at it straight on and think, “If I’m not on fire for God, it’s better to be all the way off. If I can’t measure up, I might as well not try at all.”

I have a new view of hot and cold. Hot cooks, purifies and makes change. Cold refreshes, keeps and slows growth. The balance of the two give life. A flower bulb must lay dormant in the cold dark earth before kissed by the sun it begins to grow and bloom.

I see “lukewarm” as a neither in or out mentality. I see it as stagnant water going no where. To be lukewarm is to be complacent.

There is no complacency in God.

So let me say this to you, be about something. You were fashioned for a purpose. Get up, Show up and, Go for it!

Please leave me a comment about what lights you up.

Working Mom

I had my time of being a stay at home parent. It was brief and full of adventures. I have worked from the time I was 12 years old at one thing or another. A domestic goddess I am not.

Seven years ago our life took quiet a turn and my husband became a stay at home dad with five children to juggle. How nice for him that he didn’t tackle this task while attending full time employment. It was gratifying to say the least. We are so different in our approach but hold firm to common beliefs. I took my hands off and allowed him his own way. It has been amazing to watch the bond not only with the fabulous five, but with the community as they adjust to this man. He walks holding the youngest hand to school while he also rescues another from the misunderstanding and chaos of Jr. High. He tends them well and I jump in to give him this one time of year all to himself. Hunting Season. They watch with uncertainty as I most assuredly can not fill his shoes. He has a routine down as as dependable as the sun and the moon. He knows their times, their favorites and all that holds them together. I am the wind in the willows for sure.

I hold a few specialties up my sleeve. Pancakes for dinner, I have my own recipe. One plateful then seconds and then they come back for more. They are almost a crepe made with extra eggs, a dash of nutmeg and a few capfuls of vanilla. Filling the house with the smell of love and assurance.

Papa Bear will be home soon. Momma Bear has just settled in for dinner and a just right cup off coffee. Strong and with just a dash of cream. It will take me into the night, you see my work is not done. I still have a grant to write.

Finding Courage

It had been a busy work week come to an end. Travel is a delight for me but a full work schedule takes its toll and leaves me struggling. I have returned to work after a most challenging year. I have a travel companion because I have become differently abled, handicapped, lame, crippled. Undone!

I took myself to the conference center lounging pool. First step in and I noticed a drowning honey bee. Without thought or concern, I scooped it up. Endangered and highly protected in my own backyard, I had no thought that it would recover. Soggy and struggling it looked hopeless. I held it in my hand and calmly asked it to know I meant no harm, and please don’t sting me. An incredible thing happened. The bee started sucking water out of the palm of my hand. It felt like bee kisses. It tickled, it was delightful, I giggled. The bee found it’s way to the side of my hand and fluffed and groomed itself. I watched in amazement as it recovered from it’s drowning. Much to my surprise a robust bee buzzed in from afar and circled several times. I thought it might see me as the offender and I was up for the sting. It circled and circled again. Finally flinging itself into the pool drain. Much to my surprise the bee in my hand lifted, fluttered and took off. I stood knee high in the lounging pool wondering what I was waiting for. I could throw myself into the depths or I could take courage, drink my fill and find my wings.

The Dawning

Awakened this morning in the peaceful footprint of my mother. I watched the dawning of the day, the eves are dripping from the rainy weather. The birds are bustling about as they are delighted with the new day and the refreshing.

I am allowing the creator to “Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit with in me” Psalms 51:10