A Sandy Cove Memory

One of my dear friends is Marilyn. Her husband ( a wonderful pastor) threw a birthday party yesterday in her honor. In guy terms, that means he waited till Thursday to make some phone calls send a mass email and say he was putting together a little dinner with a few of her closest friends.

I wanted to take her a special gift, something from my heart, so I thought I'd paint something.  I thought of a fruit still life with her favorite grapes, watermelon and 'lopes, plus adding a scripture, but that fell short of inspiring me.   I thought of doing a Zambezi River scene  since she loves the deep colors of her African heritage.  But the photo of the river did nothing but make me say, "Oh, that's pretty."  It wasn't like she'd been there or talked of the Zambezi River.  However, the photo I found did lead me to want to paint a seascape for her, and the first thing I thought of was  Sandy Cove.  It's a Christian camp/ retreat center on the headwaters of the Chesapeake Bay where she and I went for an impromptu prayer retreat overnight a few years ago.  Marilyn is the "prayingest" woman I know.  A true intercessor. 

She is also in great shape, being a runner and loving the track and field events (and still competing at her age!).  So our prayer retreat of course included her idea of relaxing before midnight prayer: a 10-minute "burn session."  (This was not something she had discussed when were planning our getaway. She's a wise woman.) Picture doing a cardio workout in a hotel room with an Olympic trainer when you're really thinking some decaf coffee and a donut would be a good segue into the throne room of heaven. Marilyn took out a stretchy rope with handles and made me step on it and stretch muscles in my arms. Muscles I didn't have before I got to Sandy Cove.  She made me do knee lifts to my chin, which is all of seven inches. She made me run sprints in our hotel room, back and forth from window to door. I'm sure the people below were asking for their 99 bucks back. Actually, there was no "below." We were on the first floor, at sea level, with a beautiful view.  But someone, somewhere, must've been saying, "I feel the earth movin' under my feet."

When that was over, we caught our breath, got our showers, and resumed prayer. Marilyn kept moving; she paces when she prays. I, on the other hand, didn't want to make God nervous, so I sat on the foot of the bed. We prayed about everything we could think of, starting with me being able to walk the next day. Mercy! We prayed about everything from children to church to marriage to spiritual gifts to the purchase of a home for her family.  We cried. We laughed. We took potty breaks because we're women of a certain age.  We prayed some more, and then, at last, around 1:15 a.m., we finally fell asleep.

The next morning we slept till past the breakfast service so decided impromptu to fast till lunch.  (Not  a spiritual decision, mind you. Our choices were vending machine and McDonald's.)   We went outside to find a quiet place to sit and talk and pray while watching sailboats on the water and hear gulls overhead.  There was a lone, shiny green bench at the crest of a knoll just a few feet above the tiny beach, somewhat under a shade tree. The leaves were full and green, the grass was green, the water was blue-grey, and the sky at midmorning was yellow and pink.  We agreed to pray with our eyes open because it was just too magnificent a view to pray with closed eyes. God would hear us either way

Fast forward to Saturday night. I drew a quick sketch of the scene I best remembered--that of the morning view of  the bay at Sandy Cove from the bench.  (If you open the photo you'll see an aerial view of the campus. Look at the cluster of trees near the main walkway toward the water. Under one of those sprawling oak trees is a green bench where Marilyn and I sat for morning prayer.) 

Then I painted the scene with acrylics (Grumbacher brand). The only artistic license I took was to change the bench from green to red. A green bench under a green tree on green grass would not have drawn the eye in nearly as much. I learned from a seascape painter in Maine that he often puts red doors on seaside cottages in his paintings for that reason. Gathering tips from pros hither and yon has become a hobby all its own.  Gotta love getting knowledge for free.

Another tip I read Saturday was to combine all the colors from the painting into the sand--tiny hints of blue, green, grey, yellow, brown, orange, whatever. It's so subtle amidst the dominant sand color, but doing this trick brings all the colors together in the foreground.  The eye perceives a unified painting. 

Yet another painting tip is to ask for critique from a 10-year-old artist who happens to be your son. I asked,"Tell me what time of day this scene is."

He first said, "6 a.m." 
I told him it was supposed to be 9 or 10  a.m. 
He said, "Easy, then. Add more yellow." 
I did, and asked him 10 minutes later, "So...what time is it now?" 
He  said, "Turn around and look at the clock."
" No, no, smarty pants, what time is it in the painting?"
 "Oh....about 9:47."

Little squirt.

Now, you're probably wondering Marilyn's reaction to her birthday painting from me.  I was really hoping she'd instantly recognize the scene. If not, I'd never paint for another person again.

She opened my painting and said, "Hey! You know what this reminds me of?  Our prayer retreat at Sandy Cove! Remember? Just you and me? That was such a great memory!"

Aah. Satisfaction.

But guess what? When you paint until midnight, your brain gets foggy.  I forgot to take a picture of
the painting I titled "A Sandy Cove Memory."   Nonetheless, I won't soon forget the power of prayer, friendship, and stretchy ropes applied to flabby arm muscles.

A Delightful Scrapbook from my Precious Friend

I actually received this scrapbook

from my friend Barb for my birthday in August.
I've been meaning to photograph it for quite some time. Barb and I have been friends
since 1974. We met in the third grade when our family moved from Missouri to Kansas.
We did everything together, noble and ignoble.

We lost touch during our teens, but reconnected when my secondborn was a baby. Through every life season since then, we've been friends. She knows me better than anyone except for my husband, and loves me anyway.

So you can imagine how much it meant to me that she would catalog our friendship in pictures and words by making a scrapbook for me. It was a complete surprise, and I cherish it. I could have taken all the page protectors off to avoid the glare on some of these shots, but I didn't. Sometimes you just gotta "get 'er done," and forget trying to be all perfect about it.



The intro page. So clever.
We make each other smile.
I visited her in 1989, the first time we'd seen each other since middle school.
Ben was 18 months old here, Sarah 5 months. And I was... a lot younger. Okay,
23 to be exact! And a lot more energetic. Did my hubby and I really travel halfway
across America with these two little diapered squirmies, and live to tell about it?

We met up again a couple years later, in Independence, MO, at a little zoo. By this time, Paul and I
had had our third child, Stephen, an adorable curly towhead with big blue eyes. Sarah is sour-faced in these pictures because she was kind of scared of those enormous baboons. Wouldn't you be if you were her size? Barb's two little boys were so stinkin' cute. (Still are.)
Many year later, for my birthday, she flew to my house to surprise me. She
had said my present would be a few weeks late, but it would arrive. She didn't
say that SHE was the gift and would arrive on October 1st. My daughter did a GREAT
job keeping it all hush-hush.

Barb adored my baby, and how could she not? Look at him. What a ham, tromping
around in his daddy's shoes.
It's uncanny how much alike Barb and I. When I flew out to Kansas last summer, I was wearing a lime green T-shirt and jeans on the flight. There was no way she knew that, but guess what she was wearing when she picked me up from the Wichita airport? We laughed about our "ESP" and then headed from the airport to visit our favorite third grade teacher and her husband.

They've been married over 65 years, sweethearts forever. Their anniversary happens to fall on my birthday.

It was the summer I turned 45 and Barb turned 46. I love to tease her that I'm
soooooooo much younger! Here we are trying to get a decent shot of ourselves
while stopping on the side of a dirt road to pluck sunflowers. The Kansas wind
never quits except right before a tornado. Ever had one of those self-photo shoots that takes you about 283 tries, wishing your arm was longer and your nose shorter, but just as you think you've got an okay pose--WHOOSH!~ wind in the face again! We were so flustered we got giddy!

She taught me to make sandhill plum jelly. It's the best! What I thought was
funny was that, once again, we both got dressed in the same color AGAIN before
seeing what the other was wearing. We have such similar tastes that we even
bought the same cream-colored eyelet bedspread 1200 miles apart.
A much-needed girls' getaway refreshed us both.

Isn't she cute?
I had to have rhubarb pie. Hadn't eaten any since I was a girl in KS.
We spend a way-too-short but gloriously warm afternoon at Wilson Lake.
I sat and journaled while she read a book. I couldn't get over the beautiful blue topaz
colored water.
And she patiently waited while I took pictures of fence posts, old barns, and
windmills, and those beloved sunflowers.


A friendship like ours is rare and wonderful. I am richly blessed. Even though we both have had many friends in our lives, of course, there is something inexpressibly comfortable
about having someone with whom you can be completely honest, ugly, foolish, ornery, mischievous, hormonally whacko, and still be loved for who you are.

Thanks, Barb, for being that kind of friend, and for making this scrapbook for me. It
is one of the many ways you've demonstrated your love to me in the past 38 years.

Hodgepodge Wednesday: Queues, Quests, and Quintessential Beauty

1. Do you send Christmas cards? If so about how many will you send this year? How do you display the cards you receive? Or don't you? (gasp!)

• Yes, most years I do send Christmas cards--about 25-30, and receive about that many. I tape them to the back of the front door, as pictured halfway down this post.

I used to include our family Christmas Chronicle which journaled our year in (lame) poetry. It's been several years since I wrote one, for lack of inspiration, but I might revive it this year.

2. When do kids become adults?

Great question! Hmmm, I'm tempted to ask, "Can I get back to you on that?" so that I might possibly come up with an erudite answer. The thing that keeps coming to mind is that adulthood
seems to be not much as an age reached, but a perspective understood. That perspective seems to include a combination of fiscal responsibility, personal priorities, a sense of gratitude rather than entitlement, and a display of selflessness that includes serving his family, showing up for work when he doesn't feel like it, keeping a commitment even when something more appealing presents itself, and it includes having a quest for purpose and vision about his life.

As for the fiscal responsibility part of maturing, a child nearing adulthood seems to be "arriving" when he realizes that he has to put his own hard-earned money into the ATM before it will spit any out. When he puts more in than he takes out, he matures further. When he pays his bills on time before thinking of any luxuries, he is marked as more mature than when all the bills were paid for him. And when he shares his earnings regularly for the sake of another, rather than thinking only of himself, I would say he has pert-near reached adulthood.

3. Does your 'beauty regimen' change with the seasons?

If you mean the seasons of the year, then no, not much except for the lip color. I wear moisturizer 365 days a year, mascara most every day, usually eye shadow, and some blush. If you mean the seasons of life, then yes, in the sense that I am more careful as I age about protecting my skin. I also drink more water than I used to because I really think it moisturizes skin which , in addition to having good genes, keeps the skin softer and more radiant, which translates to "younger looking."

Boy, I'm starting to sound like an infomercial. Moving right along...

4. What's something you like to eat that might cause another person to turn up their nose?

Brussels sprouts. I used to turn up my own nose at them until about two years ago on a date, when our waitress convinced me to try to them as part of the special. They were fresh, cut in half, drizzled with olive oil, and roasted till tender-crisp and sweet. I had never liked them before (I'd tried them twice) because they'd been boiled to death and tasted like buttered golf balls.

Not that I've ever eaten buttered golf balls. (I tried eating unbuttered golf balls once, but...oh, never mind.)

The secret to liking brussels sprouts is not fixing them the way your mother's generation cooked everything.

5. Gloves or mittens?

Gloves. Mittens are fairly useless since the only time I venture out into the cold is when I need my fingers to be flexible for driving vehicles, scraping ice , shoveling snow , or assisting a 13-year-old man-child up the hill after he has wrenched his knee while snowboarding on one inch of the powdery stuff because he wore out his 7-months pregnant mother by begging her ad nauseum to try his new board in the backyard. I won't mention names, but he is getting married soon.

6. What's the longest queue you've ever been in? Was it worth it? Queue=line but doesn't queue sound nicer?

Yes, "queue" is a nicer-sounding word, Joyce, and one of my favorites. Longest queue I've ever been in was for a women's bathroom stall at the Women of Faith Conference in Kansas City several years ago. It was about an hour after lunch. There were 10,000 (give or take 278) women who also needed relief, and there were probably only eight restrooms in what seemed like 14 city blocks' worth of convention hall.

Even though all the mens' facilities (except one) had been reserved for the women, they certainly hadn't been converted for us. You know what I'm talking about.

There really isn't much a woman can do with a urinal. Especially an hour after lunch.
Although, I wonder how many women were sorely tempted to experiment.

At least one woman was, but she didn't yield to the temptation ,and by the grace of God, she didn't mess her drawers either.

She didn't even care that the lock on the door didn't work when she FINALLY-thank-you-LORD, FINALLY got a vacant stall. (She's not sure the woman exiting had fully exited, either, or if she knocked her out of the way whilst the woman zipped up.)

Sitting on that toilet (maybe she didn't even make it to sitting position?) was worth every second of "holding it," considering the alternative. Absolutely. She became a woman of faith in the almighty bladder and in the overwhelming ability to distract one's mind away from her bowels and onto solving complicated math problems such as 10278 divided by 14, x 7, - (14-7) to the 82nd power.

7. Besides Christmas, what is one thing you are looking forward to in the month of December?

I am eager to attend a parents' luncheon for the December 2011 graduates of the College of Education at my daughter's university. Our precious Sarah, who will graduate with a BS in Early Childhood Ed, has invited my husband and me to this special occasion.

We are so proud of her and what she has accomplished, and grateful that she puts her heart and soul into her studies and her student teaching. Forsooth (does anyone use that word anymore?) I absolutely love that she wants us to be at the luncheon. (That's another sign of adulthood--when your kids are no longer embarrassed to be seen with you, but actually ask you to be seen with them. It's almost worth the price of tuition.)

8. Insert your own random thought here.

Today I got to do one of my very favorite things in all the world- -have an international guest and a missionary in my home for a meal. My friend Bonnie is home on furlough from Zambia with her roommate/"adopted" daughter Swazi (who is 22). The three of us had lunch on a cold rainy day, and I got to hear first-hand what their lives are like, and felt honored that Bonnie prioritized her very busy schedule to include four uninterrupted hours with me.

It's just really too bad that missionaries have to spend so much of their supposed R&R setting up meetings, raising support, and showing the same videos over and over instead of just resting and relaxing, or reading and rejuvenating. The R&R for missionaries actually appears to stand for "Running and Rallying." But what is the solution?

Bonnie requested egg salad, so I obliged and just had to bake peanut butter cookies with Dunkin Donuts coffee, a treat I've been promising to serve her the whole time she's been gone. PB cookies and DD coffee. Yum!

And hot tea for Swazi, who was having trouble warming up, literally.

Swazi's first impression of America is "it's cold!" Oddly enough, we've been having a warm spell here in Maryland this past week, but today was cold and wouldn't stop raining. Swazi didn't have an umbrella, but I had a brand new polka-dotted one, still with tags on, so I wished her an early Merry Christmas, and she promptly popped it open before heading up the driveway in the pouring mess, all smiles.

Hodgepodge: S'more'sy, Outdoorsy Stuff

Linking up again for one of my favorite memes, Wednesday Hodgepodge, from one of my favorite bloggers , Joyce, who writes From This Side of the Pond. I'll try to be brief this time. (Cough, cough.)


1. Do you and your family enjoy camping? What do you enjoy most/like the least when it comes to family camping? When was the last time you camped?

No, not particularly, although we have a few good memories of camping . My husband was trained as a Boy Scout in such adventures, and has the skills for them still, but doesn't enjoy the tent set-up, building fires and keeping them going, fighting mosquitoes, or listening to complaints. We don't all like the heat, some of us are scared of things that go "bump" in the night, one of us was pregnant when her air mattress sprang a leak, and shortly thereafter her bladder nearly sprang one. That all happened long before the dawn said hello, so she had to contend with the belly bump, the bump in the night, and the bumps that were called rocks beneath her deflated bed . Then had itchy bumps when the trip was over . That was the summer of '88 and we were at Cunningham Falls in Western Maryland.

However, I have sweet memories of:
- our little baby, about 23 inches long, in a big hammock under a shade tree .That baby is now 23 years old, and taller than some trees. (See previous post--he's the engaged one.)
-keeping warm together in sleeping bags
- my husband and his best friend Gary doing the dishes after making breakfast of bacon and eggs on the Weber grill without any long utensils. I can still picture their long ,skinny legs wearing those 1980's cut-off shorts and t-shirts that should have been retired during the Carter Administration.
-Watching our daredevilish friend Jerry take his hang-glider to the highest cliff and then sail through the air . (I couldn't watch anything after the part where he strapped into the glider.)

Favorite thing about camping? Sitting around the campfire when you're in love--with a certain someone or a group of people who all love Jesus and love to sing worship songs. Those things can temporarily obliterate the intoxicating scent of Deep Woods Off.

2. Did you attend a summer camp when you were a kid? Is that a happy or not so happy memory?

No, I didn't attend summer camp. Never really wanted to. Never missed it. Never had a burning desire to send our kids to camp either, for fear of what might happen. We only sent one child to camp and that was last summer when his brother and sister were counselors, and one was in his own cabin so I had a trust about that arrangement .

3. Over the course of your life, what have you probably spent more time pondering than anything else?

Love. Why God loves me. Why certain people seem to be good at loving, and others aren't. What makes two polar opposite people fall in love. How a mother can love a second child as much as her first when she fears it impossible during that second pregnancy. Could I love again if I lost my husband? Would I love God if he took everyone and everything away from me? Does anyone feel loved by me?

4. Which of the seven natural wonders of the world would you most like to see? There are many lists of 'wonders' but this is the standard natural wonder list-Mount Everest, The Great Barrier Reef, The Grand Canyon, Victoria Falls, The Harbor of Rio de Janerio, Paricutan Volcano and The Northern Lights.

Grand Canyon . It's on my bucket list. I just pray it's not where I kick the bucket. My clumsiness is Reason #1 why it's the last thing on said bucket said.

5. What was your first real job?

I was a waitress at Woolworth's. Anyone remember that store? The little restaurant part of it was quite diner-esque with its vinyl-clad booths, cheap coffee, and retirees whose patronage you could "set the clock by." I was fresh out of high school. What I remember most were three things:
1) my feet had NEVER hurt more than at the end of my first day there
2) spilling all four drinks I was delivering to one table--spilled right into the people's laps.
3) smoking. I picked up the habit because "everyone did it." But I didn't smoke in front of anyone. I was too scared of being seen by people who knew me (ie Christians, my parents, neighbors who thought well of smokeless me). I smoked to and from the job in my sister's orange Ford Pinto, and spent a lot of my tips on Juicy Fruit gum. I quit the habit after three months when I no longer had access to the Pinto. Funny thing is, every now and then I still want to smoke a cigarette. I haven't lit up in over 25 years, but the thought crosses my mind now and then. Maybe one of these days I'll find me a pair of waitress shoes and a Pinto, grab a pack of Kool Methols (do they still make those? I know they don't make Pintos anymore.) Oh, and Juicy Fruit. I'll stock up on Juicy Fruit.

6. Lemonade or Sweet tea...which do you prefer on a hot summer day?

Lemonade. I just love it. I like tea, too, but fresh-squeezed lemonade or even good ole Country-Time is my best beverage on a hot, summer day .

7. What is something that always brings a smile to your face?

My husband rubbing up against me when he has to "squeeze by" in an empty space that is clearly big enough for twelve people.

8. Insert your own random thought here.

Is there such a thing as a discrete nine-year-old boy?

Not in my house . Yesterday he needed a shower before his older sister took him anywhere in public. My husband and I were ready to venture out on a late-afternoon date, and he told our boy that there was a clean pair of underwear in the basket in our room, so put them on after your shower. Boy nods. As we head to the car, the boy heads up to the bathroom. The engine starts, and we see our boy leaning out an upper-story window, some fifty feet from the car, waving for our attention. We cut the engine off and stick our heads out . " What do you need, honey?" I call out.

He calls back loudly, so all the neighbors can hear: "DAD? DAD! WHERE'D YOU SAY THAT UNDERWEAR IS?"

Q is for Quintessential

Is there a certain word which, whenever you hear it, reminds you of a certain person? The word "intimation" (not intimidation, but intimation--"a hinting at"-- reminds me of a nun who taught Chaucer. She used that word a lot, while a pool of spittle foamed at the left corner of her mouth in excitement over what she was teaching. Who knew the Canterbury Tales could elicit such salivary surplus? When it came to teaching the tale of the Wife of Bath, look out below. When Sister couldn't contain her enthusiasm (or jaw juice) anymore, she'd lick and slurp simultaneously. Picture a carpet cleaning machine. This teacher's foamy spittle bubbled out slowly while she spoke in long, choppy sentences that read like the Amplified Bible, punctuated by the phrase, "What-hmmm?" For example, "Chaucer was intimating, what-hmm?" "that, that, that this wife had a reputation for, was known as, had an affinity for--because of the space between her front teeth--what, hmmm, a sordid habit as it were?" (And I pictured this nun teaching in sordid habit, which was equal parts comical and disgusting.)

The word "quintessential" is another such trigger word but for a polar reason. It reminds me of my delightful friend, Sandy S, who had no drool issues. I still remember the day the whole conversation over "quintessential" came up. We were sitting in the bleachers at a lacrosse game watching our FCA high school sons. The other team was killing us, and we parents were far from the field. Sandy and I kind of tuned out of the game in favor of gabbing.

Sandy has a joie de vivre that shines through her bright smile, and she is an absolute joy to be around. Energetic and athletic, talented and outgoing, she accomplishes more in a day than I accomplish in a week--and so I remarked, "Aren't you are the quintessential wife and mom!"

She said, "That sounds like a compliment, but could you please tell me what that Q word means?"

I said, "Oh, come on, you know. And I know you're the quintessential wife and mom!"

"Well, I have an idea about the word. Quints are five kids at once, but I only have two, and being a mom is essential. Other than that, help me out, Zo!"

I asked her if she wanted to hear the quick definition, or the teacher's manual version. I had just recently discovered the origin of "quintessential" while teaching an SAT vocab-prep lesson. Sandy said, "Well, considering we're only in the third quarter of the game, give me the TM version!

"Okay then. You are right that "quint" means five. In Medieval times, people believed there were four essences: air, water, fire, and earth. The fifth essence--or quinta essentia-- was the perfect embodiment of all four heavenly elements. That's you."

"No way!"

"Yes way! Aristotle said the fifth essence was ether, since it was believed there was a trace of ether in everything. It permeates all other elements. What other moms today have read their Bibles before sun-up, run ten miles at dawn, come home and made strawberry smoothies with cheese frittatas, homeschooled a high schooler and a middler, put dinner in the crock pot, cut up 20 fresh oranges for the whole lacrosse team, helped her husband with some landscaping, and is here now perky as a spring daffodil for a 3 o'clock game on the north side of the Baltimore beltway? Most of us were proud that we took a shower, got through math before lunch, and found matching socks. As for dinner, the plan is either Burger King or McDonald's."

"Hey, I just had a lot to do today! That's all. And if I don't run, I'm a hyper mess!"

She and I still tease each other on Facebook. I told her I hope she has a quintessential birthday at the lake. She told me to have a quintessential date night. I asked her, "At Burger King or McDonald's?"

She replied, "Ether!"

Host a Boy's Birthday Party, Post-op?

On Valentine's Day, my youngest child turns 9. Can it be, Lord, can it be? He asked me on the New Year's Day, "Can I please have a "friends" party this year?" (Meaning, not just family like every year except two of them.) I agreed.

At the time, four weeks post-surgery sounded like plenty of time to recover for an all-boy birthday party. (He made it clear: no girls. Okay, then. I'm more than fine with that. Girls' expectations are too high, anyway.)

Now, however, I am two weeks out and the very thought of "boys" in the same sentence with "party" makes me clutch my abdomen. Joel and I were discussing the details this morning.He decided on a sports theme. I approved his guest list, disapproved the arena he had in mind for indoor hockey, and nodded in agreement with the Outside Fun of soccer and football he was talking about, namely because it's outside, and therefore Paul the Dad is much more likely to "run with the ball" in more ways than one. And I suggested tug-of-war on the lawn, knowing I would only be there to offer my strength as a cheerleader and maybe get their scrawny little arm muscles and ruddy-warrior faces on camera.

I had the agenda in mind already. Time: 11-11:30. He gasped. I said I was kidding ( a little).

I had mercy and made it 11-1:00. Enough time for games, cake, and ice cream. Not enough time to set me back a week. Oh, and he said, "Nah, not cake. I'm kind of over cake for birthdays. Maybe just ice cream. Or brownies and ice cream." How perfect could that be, because right now I am "over" making birthday cakes.

If you have any more suggestions on how to make this a fun party without the momma playing a very big role the day of, please let me know.

Sew Much Fun: Dala-la-la-la

Every now and then I get the urge to sew. I have to be inspired, and this Christmas I have been.

I was inspired to make a pillow and a small tote for my blogging friend, Laurie. (She already opened the gifts, so I can show pictures now!) The fabric just "called" her name--the colors and design remind me of the Swedish Dala horses of Lindsborg, Kansas and, I hoped, coordinate with her decor as best I could remember it. (I second-guessed myself a few times about the busy fabric, but the love is there in the busy-ness of my choice anyway.)

She gave me the mug in the summer for my birthday. Can you see the inspiration I took from it? (I wrapped the pillow before thinking to photograph it, but it's a simple 16" square, knife-edge number in matching fabric.)


The lining of the bag is a repurposed cloth napkin I had that was too silky to stay in one's lap!
But it dressed up and bulked up the cotton bag. I found pale yellow buttons in Sarah's button stash and used my Bible and journal as guidelines for sizing. The pillow is for fun and comfort anywhere she wants to use it.

Got something in the till for Joel (which I hope I don't forget about!) . While sewing, a hand needle got lodged in the guts of my machine, and Joel took the bottom plate off and rescued it--plus found two wheat pennies that made him ecstatic. For a mechanical guy who collects coins, my loss was his gain!

All told, I had a lot of fun making stuff this year for people I love.

The Day I Met My Blogging Friend, Laurie

After a couple of years of blogging, emailing, and getting to know each other on
Facebook, I finally got to meet my friend Laurie. Providentially she lives within an hour of my lifelong friend, Barb, with whom I got to spend an entire week.

It's a strange, sweet, giddy, surrealistic feeling to meet in person someone you've only met online. And when you're sisters in Christ, what could be better? That first glimpse of someone you've only seen in pictures is somewhat like meeting a celebrity. When Barb pulled into the driveway, there was Mike. It was weird parking in front of the shed I'd seen in pictures. I can't explain it. Out of body experience?

Anyway, Laurie and I hit it off immediately as we chatted at her kitchen bar. After a bit, we ate a humongous lunch they'd prepared, and then toured Lindsborg, and drove out to Coronado Heights and surrounding places in the Smoky Hills.

Christine, her daughter, did an amazing job in the kitchen to put out a smorgasbord for us (when all we were expecting was a sandwich and a glass of tea!). Swedish meatballs with cherry topping ( a new combo for me, and very yum); creamed corn, sweet pickled cucumbers, herbed potatoes, grape tomatoes, flatbread and Havarti and Colby cheeses; homegrown beets, and I'm sure some foods I'm forgetting at the moment. What a treat to "go international" in central Kansas!

Barb took a jar of the sandhill plum jelly we'd made beforehand, which Laurie promptly heaped upon her slice of buttered bread!

Dessert: Swedish cheesecake called ostkaka, topped with lingonberries. It's really more like rice pudding than cheesecake .Delicious!

As if that wasn't enough ...

Laurie gave me a huge wicker basket filled with a gazillion thoughtful gifts. She truly has the knack for creative and personal expression. Can you see the way the big Z + the "0" (transfat) + "Anna's" cookie brand spells out my name? What's more, she gave me Swedish coffee, a Dala horse mug, several postcards by Swedish artist Birger Sandsen *who lived in KS), plus some Swedish candy, a KU shopping bag (my parents' alma mater so I'll pass the treasure on to them), sketch pads, a journal, gold writing pen (because of my penchant), and other little goodies. I was undone by her generosity! So much thought, time and love went into this gift and I love it. Thank you, Laurie, for everything! I feel so loved!

What a day that was.

Meeting Laurie

Laurie is a blogging friend I've had for a couple of years now. She lives in Kansas not terribly far from my friend Barb. For a sneak preview of our first meeting, go to her post here.

I have some post-holiday catch-up to do now, but when I get another chance, I'll blog my memories.

I Met Rachel in Real Life !

You can go here to meet Rachel online, but I had the rare privilege of meeting this lovely, vibrant woman in person. I couldn't help but notice the symbolism of our first rendezvous spot: Baggage Claim. But that's a whole 'nother blog post.

I intentionally chose to fly through DFW in order to meet Rachel. I could have gone through Atlanta, Chicago, or Memphis on layovers, but I had a hunch that Rachel would "put her apron on" in hospitality, even if it meant driving through the always-inconvenient maze of traffic near and around an airport.

Good thing we had cell phones, because yesterday morning the email I got from Orbitz said the flight was arriving at Gate A36. I forwarded it to her. Just before landing, however, the attendant announced that we were pulling into Gate C19. We're talking BIG difference here, because it's a 29-mile long airport (a fact I read on board) that means walking is only for those who 1) love it and 2)have nothing but a water bottle in hand and 3) have three hours to kill between flights. Those criteria did not apply to me.

But by the grace of God and modern technology, we found each other (Rachel had to leave terminal A and drive to C--think: taxi thru Manhattan). My gait was a quick trot from C19 to 15. The first thing on my mind was the bathroom, second meeting her (sorry, Rachel, I have my priorities) and third: food. I'd last eaten at 8 a.m. and was thinking she was bringing sandwiches. But I think I had mentioned McDonald's and that I'd take care of it? Whatever. All I know is that the talk time was well worth the sacrifice of lunch. Besides, do I LOOK like I could stand to miss a meal? (Don't answer that out loud.) But I should have at least glanced in the mirror and put on some lipstick. Oh well. "It is what it is."

Rachel is even prettier in real life than in pictures. She is funny, a great listener, a good storyteller, and just as humble as she is honest. I love that about her. She is finding a new gift in public speaking that she admits she has "not gone looking for," but I reminded her of the scripture that says "a man's gifts make room for him." I'm fairly sure that goes for woman, too. She'll be speaking in Maryland soon at a women's retreat that I'd love to invite myself to, not that I need a retreat at the moment (I just had one in Kansas!) but to stretch our 37 minutes into a whole weekend, for starters.

Rachel smelled nice, too. I would have liked to spritz on some of my favorite perfume, Mediterranean Breeze, because I do wonder if I smelled like the after-sausage-and-eggs "wind turbulence" created by the guy in the seat behind me (and in front of me, and beside me). Oy! I bet not even Toto passed that kind of gas on the Yellow Brick Road.

If you ever have the chance to meet Rachel, or any blogger you feel kindred spirits with, do it. Make it happen if you have a choice of airports. Baggage Claim isn't the most glamorous of backdrops, but this I guarantee: standing there with a stranger-turned-friend makes your load feel just a little lighter.

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You

A trip to Kansas for the past week has provided me "oodles and skads" of blog posts and pictures. My lifelong friend, Barb, put me up (put up with me) for eight days and seven nights. We had a grand time reminiscing on our youth and innocence. (Or just youth.)

I got to meet two other bloggers, Laurie and Rachel, on my journey. New memories and new friends who didn't seem new because of this delightful thing called cyberspace. You just sometimes find kindred spirit long before you meet face-to-face.

Today, though, I must put the plains behind me and start scaling the mountains ahead. I see Mt. Laundry, Mt. No Groceries, Mt. Bedroom Cleaning, Mt. School Prep....

But I also have Mt. Great News. My husband, along with Sarah and Steve, took on the kids' bathroom as a project and transformed it while I was gone. New sink, cabinet, mirror, light fixture, and paint. Pictures of that also coming soon to a blog near you.

Crazy about Barns

My grandpa was a Kansas farmer. From our few but precious visits to see him and Grandma, I fell in love with cows, pastures, tractors, pick-up trucks, and all things farm. But the thing I love most is a barn. He had a great big ole' white one with a large center aisle .

A couple weeks ago, en route to pick up Joel from camp in central Pennsylvania, I took some pictures of barns. Can you guess which one is my favorite among these?


Several months ago , Paul and I ran into old friends we hadn't seen in over a year. The husband has a friendly Southern accent and an easy-going, "don't hurt nobody" kind of spirit, so it's hard to be really offended yet very easy to joke with him. He is an avid photographer and, unbeknownst to me ,a man with a great memory for details. Too great for his own good!

Turns out I had forgotten that I had told him (who knows how long ago) this tidbit about myself, that I love barns. Well, after hugs and "how are you and the kids?" all around, Roger says, "Zo, I thoughta you th' other day when I was shootin' an old barn."

I teased him mercilessly. "What are you saying , Roger, that I look like the side of a barn? I mean, I know I've got weight to lose, but really! Or are you emphasizing the old part? Huh? Huh? Whatcha sayin'?"

Oh, he turned as red as the barn in this picture above and tried to back-pedal.

" Naw, ah naw, not at all. I jiss--I jiss remember ya sayin' once how much you like ole barns. Thass all . Oh, look what I got m'self into!"

Fun Email Exchange

It's not every day you get someone's personal email in poetic verse. But yesterday I got one from Toby and Kelly, which amused me to no end, and I had to reply in kind.

Here goes the exchange:

Dear friends,

Toby's got a new cell,

and Kelly has one as well.

So to give us a call,

you'd best be on the ball;

take care not slumber,

but use our new number.

So update your contacts,

then sit back and relax;

that's all that needs doing

- please leave off the booing

My poetry is poor; Christ's love is perfect,

love in Christ,

Toby
-----------------

to which I replied...


Someone's got time
To make up a rhyme
That he judges poor at best.
But it made me smile--
it's an email with style--
My inbox has surely been blessed.


I'll make a note
of the changes you wrote
and will keep your rhyme in my drafts,
But don't be surprised
If I call you, disguised
As a publisher wanting your crafts!


Zo

To which Kelly replied,

"You worry me - truly. :) "

Friendly Americans

Paul and I went to Rehoboth Beach on Wednesday. While he was scoping out parking for less than $1.50 per hour, I guarded the meter where we parked. A white-haired, grandfatherly man with a beard approached as I was straining to read the directions on the meter (and yes, this sounds very elementary, my dear, but these are a new-fangled kind--to us, anyway) where one meter feeds several spaces at the push of a corresponding button. But the sun's glare was creating a reading problem for both him and me, and we struck up a little conversation. I asked where he was from and he said, "Canada." I asked if it was his first time here, and he said, "No. I liked it so well, this is my fourth trip down here in a year. I actually prefer America. People here are so much friendlier."

I told him my theory about that ."The farther south you go, the friendlier people are. I think it has to do with the temperatures--cold weather, cold people . Warm weather, warm people. Up north they're too busy hugging themselves to keep warm to wave hello."

He said, "You know, I never thought about it that way, but I think you're right. Where are you from?"

"Maryland," I said. "And I can tell you we're friendlier than Pennsylvanians, but I absolutely love Georgians!"


I didn't think about our easy-going society much again until being around more foreigners this week. Yesterday, I was sitting on a beach chair next to Val, one of our friends from Far East Russia. Her English is pretty good, but sometimes I am not sure if I'm making sense with my questions, so I rephrase them in ways a Russian could more easily understand them. ( I hope.) The answers never cease to amaze me.

"So, Val, let me ask you what you've been reading, studying, or what God's been teaching you lately."

"Hmm? What?"

"Have you learned something the past few weeks or days or months from God?"

"Ah, yes, okay, I understand. Yes . Since being here, in Amereeka, I see how much your nation smiles. Ze people, zay seem so...friendly . EVerybotty--man, woman, keeds--zay smile. Zat ees sumsing I vant to take back to my country. In Russia, people are so like zees [she frowns and crosses her arms]--so serious. I sink zat God vants me to smile more, too."

"Oh, wow. You mean you don't smile much in Russia yourself?"

"No, not enough, my deeah. But why not? In Yeshua vee have such joy. Should vee keep it to ourselfs? No, vee should not! God vants us to smile! Zat ess vat he has been showing me."

Spring Cleaning: Fun with a Friend

I have a friend named Cheryl who is great company for me. Not only is she a gentle, fun-loving teacher and dear c0-worker (she teaches the morning classes, I teach the afternoon ones) but she is also that kindred spirit.

We have this yin-yang thing about us. I love to laugh; she loves to cut up. I love deep conversations; she goes quickly from superficial to the heart. I love to lighten my workload whenever possible; she is a Clydesdale. (That is only referring to her endurance, not her size. She was a ballet instructor back in the day.)

Today we combined some of her goals with some of mine and some of ours:



Her goal: Raise money for her mission trip to China
My goal: Help send her
Her goal: Visit with me at least once during spring break
My goal: Visit with her , too
Her goal: Help me if I needed her, to get some deeper cleaning done this week (which is not at the same time as my collegers are off)
My goal: Take her up on the offer, while giving Joel a friend (her youngest boys) to hang out with. As the mother of a sort of "only child," I have to make extra effort to socialize him. "Twas never an issue when I had 3 close in age.

I also know Cheryl's son, Caleb, is a hard worker like herself. Well-trained to persevere "as unto the Lord." I could make him a list and he'd knock it out, with minimal instruction and even less supervision. When asked if he'd like to earn money, he gave a thumb's up, so I made a list. I wouldn't have to go behind him.

Daniel and Joel were all about earning a buck or two as well, so I put them to work. Before I knew it, they had done a really good job wiping down my base kitchen cabinets, shining the appliances, Windexing the front glass door, and emptying the contents of the pantry so I could clean and reorganize it.

Caleb spring-cleaned the living room--from taking down curtains, to doing windows, vacuuming vents, cleaning piano keys, and dusting the furniture, scrubbing baseboards.

Cheryl and I (mostly Cheryl) cleaned the family room while I did stuff that took decision making, tossing out, washing pillows and curtains, and other miscellany--plus serving green eggs and ham. I mean boiled eggs and ham. If I'd thought of it sooner, I would've colored them green for fun.

I'm sitting here loving the clean-house smell and the how it looks--very much improved. My back is sore, my mind is clear, and my heart is happy. Spring cleaning with a friend is the way to go. (That's a note to self for next year.) The rest of the house will have to wait. I have more friends, but no more break and no more energy.

"To China with love!" (Hear the clink of wine glasses filled with ice water?)

(Photo was taken by one of our students when we went to a local Indian restaurant as a geography class field trip. My straw slipped out and made me feel goofy and I mouthed the words, "Take the shichture, pwease. My wips are schtuck wike dis.")

A Special Phone Call

We'd been talking about it on and off in a few emails.

We mutually confessed our reticence to initiate phone calls, yet admitted we'll talk the other's ear off once we get started.

We accepted one another's excuses with perfect understanding and agreed that "when it happens, it'll happen."

And today, my friends, it happened.

She called.

A fellow blogger phoned me a few minutes before 11:oo this morning after getting my hopes up in an email. We talked for an hour and a half.

The most pleasant thing about this call was how naturally it flowed. Through blogging as Christian sisters, we kind of knew each other and didn't have to "start from scratch" with awkward small talk. What a blessing, because I love getting into deep conversations quickly.

So thanks, Amy for making the first move. Talking with you today was the highlight of my day. I'll be returning the favor soon.

PS I keep trying to link your name, but Blogger isn't cooperating.

Happy 25th Anniversary, Barb and Boyd

A Poem for my Wonderful Friend and Her Husband



Can it really be that you've been married
For twenty-five years already--
Longer than you were single?
Now that's what I call "going steady"!

You've weathered many storms
On the road that is named Marriage
And you've brought two darling babies home
In a true blue baby carriage.

Boyd, you're the kind of man
who can fix most everything
From broken trykes to Harley bikes
And a troubled washing machine.

Barb, you're the kind of woman
Every avid hunter wants near
'Cuz not only can you shoot
But you can also gut a deer!

Boyd, you're the kind of man
Who shows up for work each day
And makes the old folks laugh a lot
While he's collecting hard-earned pay.

Barb, you're the kind of woman
Whom other women admire
You're compassionate and gentle
And for God you are on fire.

Kansas grows some good stuff--
The best are corn and wheat--
But far better than those combined
Are marriages that can't be beat.

The two of you make one good match
You're among the finest couples
I pray the next 25 years will find
You growing closer in your nuptials.




Happy anniversary, you guys. How blessed I am to witness the grace of God in your marriage through thick and thin. I've gotta say, though, it makes me feel really old when my friends have been married longer than we have. Oh, it's a good thing, but I'm just sayin'...

For Jake and Kathy

We miss you! It's great to see your girls on your blog, Kathy, but when I came across this shot while browsing through old graduation pictures, I realized, "Wow. I sure do miss seeing these folks." If you recall, this shot was taken at

the senior dinner last year in Little Italy. (The way overpriced one I recommended that had flat ginger ale and fake library books painted on the walls.) The company 'round the table certainly redeemed the price we paid to get together.

Anyway, it's a beautiful picture of the two of you. Hope you're well. It sounds like you are.