Isaiah’s Back!

Posted on by
12

Oh my.  Around Easter, a friend produced a video of greetings for Isaiah, a young man in our church who survived a 350 ft. roll-over accident with critical head injuries and an extended coma.  As my friend ran the camera I told Isaiah I missed his faithful service with the sound system.  I also said I looked forward to the day he would be back with us, but got choked up and had to force the words through throat blockage and tears.

There were tears again today.  Tears of rejoicing.

Today, my friend, Isaiah was in church with us.  It’s incredible.  It’s unbelievable.  It’s a miracle.  Isaiah is back home, walking around, a little more quiet than usual, but ready with a smile.   He joined the guys on the lawn for a game of Frisbee.  He throws a mean Frisbee, but has a harder time catching it. 

He doesn’t remember the accident on March 31st or the first hospital.  He says his first thoughts when he woke up were that he was glad to be alive and thankful to God for preserving his life.

After the service I was chatting with Isaiah’s mom and noticed her pretty necklace.  She turned the pendant around and it had the word HOPE on it.  Her husband bought it for her the day after the accident. 

Isaiah–and his family–have more hills to climb.  He will continue therapy twice a week.  His father will tutor him in academic subjects.  The next glorious event is the wedding of his older brother at the end of the month.  Isaiah, of course, is in the wedding.

Right now, he is a walking display of God’s kindness.  Our hearts are swelling with thanksgiving.

Fizzy Fact of the Year

Posted on by
10

Our friend Steve was describing a birding trip he recently enjoyed.  In real life he doctors most of our family, but he is a credentialed ornithologist and a hoot to be around.  My husband, a bird-watcher from way back, can appreciate the rarity of a grackle sighting in our valley, and show proper enthusiasm.  Me — I sit back on my perch and enjoy their chat even though most of it flies over my head.   

Then Steve rocked my nest by casually mentioning there are dialects in birdsongs, a fact proven by sonograms of the songs.  There are variations between different parts of the country, but there can even be a variation from one valley to the next.  Why does that fizz and sizzle in my bird brain?  Does anyone else find that Absolutely Fascinating? 

I jumped on Google to scratch around.  And promptly ordered The Singing Life of Birds: The Art and Science of Listening to Birdsong (which comes with a CD).  Reviews of the book here.  I gleaned some quotes from an NPR story about Don Kroodsma and this book.

“Birds have song dialects just like we humans have dialects.”

After some intense listening and study,
Kroodsma concluded that, just as with people,
where a bird learned a song
is just as important as a bird’s genealogy.
He noticed in his travels that birds of the same species
but in different states sang the same song,
but with their own unique “accents.”

And, because I’m a “word bird” here is a great group.

Grex, gregis – Latin for flock.  From it we get gregarious (seeking and enjoying the company of others); aggregate (gathered into a group); segregate (divided into separate groups); egregious (something remarkably awful) literally means outstanding, or to stand out from the flock (the e at the beginning is a shortened form of ex, out).  But my favorite grex derivative is congregate (to gather or flock together). 

The Grands

Posted on by
5


Gavin was seriously smitten with our friend’s horse.
He opened and sustained negotiations to buy it
with three dollars and a wagonful of determination.
Gavin had already changed the horse’s name.
(He also dealt with the disappointment of
not getting his way with manly courage.)

I got to “nanny” Preston last weekend while his Mama
designed flowers and stuff. 
It was gangs of fun.
You can barely see the dimple on his right cheek.

 
Noah is just too far away for this Nana.
I want to gaze into those baby blues.
And feel those teeth.
And watch him rock and roll.

Grace Infusion

Posted on by
10


This is our crazy Quinn at the original wedding site.
Before. the. ceremony.

We’re getting to be specialists in the area of sudden wedding venue changes.  Each “crisis” is an opportunity to see God work wonders.  I’m re-winding and re-viewing the details, both dazed and amazed at our Quinn and the infusion of grace in her life. 

The wedding and reception were to be at a private home, complete with a rolling, lush lawn, towering trees, a gurgling brook, and a photogenic foot bridge.  The preparations had been made and it was going to be a wedding worthy of a magazine spread. 

The back-up venue in case of rain was the Thunder Room, the “watering hole” at the rodeo grounds.  Think neon Coors Light signs, a dark and dusty den of a room, garage doors on four walls, piles of portable metal fencing, open rafters.  The Cowgirls bathroom was gulp! a twelve-seater, non-flush toilet.  The bar (kitchen) area didn’t have a sink or running water. The whole thing was tacky times twelve.

It rained all week.  The afternoon before the wedding we had a sudden downpour, the kind that produces flash floods.  It rained during the rehearsal.  It wasn’t raining the morning of, but the weather report said 70% chance of rain.

A decision needed to be made and it was the bride’s call.   Should we chance it; gamble (if you will) that we’ll stay dry?  How would we coordinate the expected 350 guests in a downpour? 

(The groom and) Quinn decided to bring the wedding inside without a tear, a pout or a grump.  She willingly gave up her picture book wedding and rejoiced that at the end of the day she would be married to the man she adored.  She took the weather as a gift from the Father’s hand.  She kept the big picture in mind and refused to be dismayed. 

Everybody swung into action, moving all the rented chairs and tables, cleaning, setting up, notifying guests, etc.  The Thunder Room was transformed.  My daughter-in-law worked her magic with flowers, Japanese lanterns and an eye for all things beautiful. 

Redemption was on display.  The transformation of the building was an inadequate reflection of the changes that have taken place in our beautiful Quinn.  She’s been to the Thunder Room many times: this was the best event she’s ever had in that room.

Quinn still walked down to Amazing Grace (only time for two verses); the shotgun shoot was canceled.   And when the rain pounded the roof while folks were eating, family and friends smiled; the wisdom of the choice was validated.

   
 

Kindly Bring Shot Guns

Posted on by
15

I’m headed out the door to focus on the wedding of my dear friend Quinn.  My talented and wonderful daughter-in-law is already started on the flowers.  Her sister is coordinating food for 350 (my friends and I are making the yummy Artisan Bread). 

Two absolutely wonderful things:  The bride is coming down the aisle to Amazing Grace.  No dry eyes, friend; no dry eyes. 

And this from the invitation:  Kindly bring shot guns, shells and clay pigeons to start off the reception. 

You know you live in Eastern Oregon when a Shot Gun Weddin’ means skeet shooting.  Quinn will be showing off her sharp-shooting!

See ya on the other side…

Six Panel Door

Posted on by
9

A little Architecture Moment:  This style door, originally called a Cross and Open Bible door or a Christian door, was built in early colonial homes to mark that home as a Christian dwelling.  Look at the shape formed by the four top panels.  Can you see the cross?  The two bottom panels were meant to show an open Bible.   

 I learned this from my brother Jim, who takes free brochures (and actually reads them!) that are in racks in restaurants, shops and motels.  His kids razz him about trolling for free stuff. 

This reminds me of Don and Naomi Cole, family friends, who put up a wooden sign-spotlighted-above their porch one Christmas: Jesus is Lord.  It stayed up after other Christmas decorations were removed, because they couldn’t take it down in good conscience.  When I was in Jr. High and High School, I often walked by their house; it was my “safe house” I could run to if I felt threatened. 

A local restaurant, a Greek takeout called Yia Yia Nikki’s, has a sign above the door: GOD.  What does it mean and why is it about the door?  I must ask.

Architecture is an area I’d love to explore.  It fascinates me how beliefs are reflected in stone, wood, glass and design.  All building is informed by our beliefs and values. 
  

Living in a Foreign Language

Posted on by
4

 


Living in a Foreign Language: A Memoir of Food, Wine, and Love in Italy details the adventures of Michael Tucker and wife Jill Eickenberry in Umbria.  This book has so many parallels to Frances Mayes’ Under the Tuscan Sun.  They both chronicle a year of fixing up a rustic farmhouse in Italy from an American’s perspective. 

Michael Tucker is a funny guy.  He’s the guy that keeps the party going, full of stories and jokes.  His story has more for purveyors of pop-culture.  Most of his Italian friends and experiences are within the ex-patriot community.  He loves good food, but at the heart he is an entertainer.  Each chapter is framed and paced to tell a charming or funny story.  His language is salty, peppered too strongly with profanity for my tastes.  

Frances Mayes’ style is quite different.  Her book comes with recipes, thoughtful reflection about the cultural differences (particularly the pace of life), and a cast of Italian neighbors and workers.  I would recommend her take on Tuscan life over Michael Tucker’s tale of Umbria.

Here are several tidbits that tickled or tugged me from Tucker’s book:

Suddenly the cold wind of doubt blew up my pant leg.  I shivered.  It was at least 90 degrees outside.  (p.57)

It seems we never had time to get things done because our days were filled to the brim with lingering.  Breakfast became a longer and longer linger.  Not mine, which is just coffee and a crossword puzzle.  But Jill and Caroline have a way of making breakfast into a full-act play which unfolds in long, slow, Chekhovian acts–from the yogurt and peaches, into the cheese, prosciutto, tomatotes and panini, into the biscotti dipped in chesnut honey, all washed down with tea. (p.95)

The ricotta–literally “recooked” cheese–had a freshness that connected it in taste and smell to the milk of the animal it had just come from.

[on his marriage]  For better or worse, we cultivate this closeness.  The better is obvious, I suppose.  The worse is that one of us will die first and the other will be left alone.  Some couples we know hedge against this eventuality by maintaining a distance, by emphasizing their individuality.  But that’s not for us. (p.158)

[dancing with his wife]  On one anniversary, back in the New York days, Jill surprised me with ballroom dancing lessons, while I had gotten her an evening of dancing at the Rainbow Room at the top of the Rockefeller Center–all unbeknownst to each other.  It was like our own little O’Henry story.

[dancing with another woman] JoJo and I were not doing so well, either.  First of all, there was the question of who was leading. […] I tried following as best I could, but moving backward with my right foot was a very odd way to begin a dance; I couldn’t get the hang of it.  Not that it mattered — Benny Goodman and JoJo were not in any way marching to the same drummer.  But by God she had enthusism!  At one point — she was coming at me out of a spin at seventy miles an hour, minimum — I frankly didn’t know what to do with it.  My whole life flashed in front of my eyes.  Just standing my ground — or God forbid trying to catch her in some way — would have been to commit suicide.  I held out my arms wide, running back and forth like a shepherd, somehow herding her toward the center of the room.  We needed space. Help me, Jesus, we needed space. (p. 173)
 

        

Simple Gifts in May – The Late Edition

Posted on by
12

~   May means lilacs and asparagus.

I love lilacs from afar (my husband is allergic).

I enjoy asparagus close up.
Yesterday a friend fixed it with butter and brown sugar.
I admit that sounds a bit different.
But it tasted yummy.

~  Pizza tastes delicious.
Our friend Isaiah ate pizza last week.
He’s coming home June 12th!!

~  The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
And the Lord gives back.
Isaiah was given, taken away and is being given back.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.

~ Baby Isaac was born last week to our friends. 
Our church prayed publicly for a child to be born.
Yesterday was Isaac’s first day in church.  More tears of joy.

~  My husband is reading Andy Catlett: Early Travels.
I love that he is reading Wendell Berry.
Every murmur of appreciation
is followed by a what? read it aloud! from me.
Last night he read this, a perfect recap of our month.

We measure time by its deaths, yes, and by its births.  For time is told also by life.  As some depart, others come.  The hand opened in farewell remains open in welcome. […] And time that is told by death and birth is held and redeemed by love, which is always present.  Time, then, is told by love’s losses, and by the coming of love, and by love continuing in gratitude for what is lost.  It is folded and enfolded and unfolded forever and ever, the love by which the dead are alive and the unborn welcomed into the womb.  The great question for the old and the dying, I think, is not if they have loved and been loved enough, but if they have been grateful enough for love received and given, however much.  No one who has gratitude is the onliest one.  Let us pray to be grateful to the last.

~  Perceptions are funny things.
Recent visitors’ perception of our church:
1.  The women sure are happy.
2.  Wow, that’s some good singing.

~ New discoveries this month
Music:  Jamie Soles
Art:  Frederick Morgan
Food:  Jamie Oliver (via Netflix)

~ Deep, philosophical questions:
Should I catch up on my unfinished reading
or start new with
The Summer of Southern Literature?
(doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?)

Perhaps Southern Lit needs a year?

~  A new season, a new transition.
I’ve been teaching my kids at home since 1994.
And that job is completed.
I’ve accepted a full-time job at a local pharmacy.
My title is Manager of Internal Operations.
My husband and I decided that it would be good
for me to work 2-3 years to fulfill our financial goals. 
I’m using my gifts in an unexpected way.
A big change.

~ A never-done-before, breath-taking wedding processional
I’m playing for a wedding this Saturday.
The bride wants to come down the aisle to…
Amazing Grace.
I need to make some stylistic decisions.
I’m thinking quiet, elegant, open chords.
 

Tip for Closed Eyes in Photos

Posted on by
7

Jim – an excellent  wedding photographer – gave me the best photography tip EVER.  When I was in Pennsylvania we had to take the requisite family pictures. 

“I’m sorry, but my eyes are always closed in pictures.  I try not to blink to no avail.” I apologized in advance.

“Here’s what you do.” Jim replied. “I will count to three and you blink on two.  Your eyes will be open in every picture.”

It works!  Blink on two.  Profound!  Have you heard of that? 

Now if I could only learn to shut my mouth.


My six sibs and me