And we saw lots of Elk, but did not take one picture of them. Not one.
Primarily, I suppose, because even though it is Elk season up there, I was there for the purely selfish reason of reprieve and relaxation. Not the elk. For me. The elk are on their own for that.
Clouds started rolling in late morning.
We were at our niece’s house, enjoying the cool nights and pretty fall days..
Leaving in the early afternoon for some time on the River Walk and people watching; the Aspen just out the front door was changing color hourly, I swear!
Back to the mansion on the hilltop in Estes at around 7 pm. Some clouds had moved in and it even sprinkled on us for 5 minutes or so. But the sun was forcing its’ way back into our evening…
I decided to sit outside and sing my head off until it got very dark and cold or I lost my voice. The voice went first. But it was also pretty dark and a tad chilly.
The last of the day’s fall rays.
Refreshed in the crisp, cool Colorado Rocky Mountain air.
THANK-YOU, Lori (o blessed niece-of-mine) and Emilee (great-niece, great in both senses of the word) and fam for the loan of your exquisite, way-up-high home while you were away. LOVELY. Peaceful and life-giving!
My songs are probably still echoing around the mountains. Hope that does not disturb the elk. :)
This is not your grandma’s hymn-version of this song!
My dad brought home the Edwin Hawkins Singers’ album featuring the popular crossover single “Oh, Happy Day” sometime in 1969 or early 70. My dad loved good gospel. He put that thing on the blue and white Hi-Fi and cranked it so loud the entire 3-story house was pulsating with the sound. Of course the vibrating windows and doors were opened and I recall my mom wondering, “Why does it have to be so loud?”
Because!
The music was that good. It deserved to be heard. And it became part of our family’s soundtrack, from the “Oh, Happy Day,” tune for which it had been purchased (later covered in the film “Sister Act,” fun for a whole new generation) to the crazy-great “Come and Go with Me to My Father’s House,” that one especially, my sister, Tami, and I still enjoy and break out singing to this day. But there was this other song, though I loved them all, that I found to be powerful, direct and just passionately spoke to my heart. I was 10 when I loved it first and was surprised, as a young teen, to come across the original hymn, (Horatius Bonar wrote the words in 1846, with John Dykes adding music in 1868), in our church songbook. We didn’t sing it at our church at all. But I saw the lyrics were exacly the same as this Edwin Hawkins Singers song I loved, just not the melody. I didn’t even know what a cover song was then, but I had found one!
Music and lyrics for the traditional version, straight out of a hymnbook!
About 10 years ago I rediscovered the incredible, electrifying energy and message of the song, the version of my childhood, the soul version, and oh-how-I-still appreciate the strong language (“Take My yoke upon you and learn of Me”), the vivid word images (“Behold I freely give Living Water, thirsty one, stoop down and drink and live”) , the power of surrender (“I came to Jesus and I drank of that life-giving stream”) and more. But the very first words, the sweet invitation – “I heard the voice of Jesus say ‘Come unto Me and rest,'” is what the whole song is about. And a compelling song it is. If/when you are weary and worn and sad, if/when you are hungry or thirsty or if /when your soul is just wrung out, this is your personal, engraved (in the palm of His hands) invitation to come and rest and be refreshed – an invitation from Jesus Himself! I was so excited to find some one had Youtubed The E-H Singers. Yay! Please listen and sing along. It will rev you up to be refreshed and revived, rested and made glad. This is your invite. Accept! I am. :)
I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Come unto Me and rest; Lay down, thou weary one, lay down Thy head upon My breast.” I came to Jesus as I was, weary and worn and sad; I found in Him a resting place, and He has made me glad. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me For my yoke is easy and my burden is light And my burden is light- I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Behold, I freely give The living water; thirsty one, stoop down, and drink, and live.” I came to Jesus, and I drank of that life giving stream; My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, and now I live in Him. I heard the voice of Jesus say, “I am this dark world’s Light; Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, and all thy day be bright.” I looked to Jesus, and I found in Him my Star, my Sun; And in that light of life I’ll walk, till traveling days are done.
Come unto to Me and rest.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11.28-30 The Message
Well, technically the actual totally full moon isn’t until tomorrow. At 9:18 pm. But it is pretty full now, too. A crsip, cool 63-degrees and a big moon in the sky. :)
Oh, and Bambi sauntered across the highway just as we were getting to town. Yikes!
Late summer 1977, a girl about to enter her senior year of high school, sits in her room singing and praying this song over and over,
Lord, let me have a dream without being a dreamer
And Lord, let me have a vision without being consumed of it
And let me work with diligence always knowing that You’re the start and end of it
Oh Lord, let everything, everything I do remind me of my love for You.
Lord, teach me how to love for so many are in need of it
Oh Lord, teach me how to give for it’s in giving that we learn how to live
Let me work with diligence always knowing that You’re the start and end of it
And oh, Lord, let everything, everything I do remind me of my love for You.
Let everything-everything-everything that I do
Remind me of my love for you.
Here is what that girl didn’t know then
She will struggle her whole life to avoid workaholism in favor of whole-hearted devotion, which is pleasing to the Lord, just like Hezekiah.
She will battle, having been raised with a strong work ethic and disdain for laziness, a propensity for overwork and have to be reminded that rest is a built-in (work 6, rest 1) and an invitation from Jesus Himself, “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy-laden and overburdened, and I will cause you to rest. [I will ease and relieve and refresh your souls.] Take My yoke upon you and learn of Me, for I am gentle (meek) and humble (lowly) in heart, and you will find rest (relief and ease and refreshment and recreation and blessed quiet) for your souls. For My yoke is wholesome (useful, good—not harsh, hard, sharp, or pressing, but comfortable, gracious, and pleasant), and My burden is light and easy to be borne.” Matthew 11.28-30
She will throw herself into things (good things and causes and righting injustices and getting the job done when no one else will and even “work for the Lord”) with zeal and passion and intense diligence (body-soul-and-spirit) and will need to be reminded that the Lord is the start and the end of the things He calls her to. It doesn’t depend on her. It is His.
She will have to re-learn, time and again, that the vision, though energizing and life-giving, is not meant to consume the whole of her.
And again and again she will repent before the Lord that she is doing many things for many-many reasons (even for Him, in her mind) and that it is time to get back to it being above her love for Him, in unforced rhythms of grace.
Another trip around the proverbial block. :/
Note: Danniebelle Hall was a FAV of mine, both whn she toured with Andrae Crouch and during her solo career. And yes, the words are poignant to me, from then and for now, an anthem for a do-er. Teach me to love, teach me to give…
The iconic, mellow crooner, Andy Williams died tonight. He was 84. Probably known best for “Moon River,” I was just thinking about how many songs of his I really do love, even though he is a little more easy-listening than I usually go for.
Because of course there is “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” and every Christmas, even if I have neglected his work all year long, still, the Andy Williams album is dusted off and enjoyed.
But my favorite of all his many-many recordings, is the theme from the Ali McGraw-Ryan O’Neal 1970 blockbuster, “Love Story.” The movie captured an era, white cable knit sweater and scarf, her long, black hair and free spirit, his tousled hair in spite of a rigid, formal upbringing. Andy captures it in song, the impossibility of the love between the two of them:
Where do I begin to tell the story of how great a love can be?
The sweet love story that is older than the sea
The simple truth about the love she brings to me
Where do I start?
And darned if he doesn’t sing the stuffing out of that song, and even though he didn’t know if he could even find the words to begin to describe it, somehow he did find them and he found them powerfully:
How long does it last
Can love be measured by the hours in a day
I have no answers now but this much I can say
I know I’ll need her till the stars all burn away
And she’ll be there
Thanks, Andy Williams for telling us the story of how great a love can be. In song.
I haven’t done an homage to Pinterest in awhile. I definitely do not utilize it like I was a year ago at this time, when I was a new user and planning a wedding {see the wedding board HERE}.
But still? I love Pinterest.
I don’t love it because I find cool stuff there, though at times, I do. I love it because of how easy it is for me to record the cool things I find elsewhere on the web and can so easily, sort, organize and keep record in of said locations for future use. Works for me.
I rarely actually go back and look through my boards, but when I do, I am always happy I did – for I immediately see things I forgot I loved. And I love them all over again. Happy. :)
Then this:
Also, I ran across a design blog awhile back that posed the question: if this blog were a room, what would it look like? I thought it was an odd, but interesting query. And I wondered how the heck I could find a room that answered that? And I probably couldn’t, but I figured I would look on my Pinterest boards and see if I could find rooms that resonate with what I am thinking/feeling/expressing when I write and post here at Thought Collage.
Today’s Most-Interesting-Pinterests will all be images from one of several of my personal Pinterest Boards:
The Jeanie Green Board (“Jeanie Green” was coined by my friend, Candi, to describe a color I wholly love – that 70s-inspired shade of apple green that I adopted with zeal after I first kissed Jimmy Green in the church parking lot in 1972). If this blog were a room from the Jeanie-Green board, it would look like this:
This is not quite “Jeanie-green,” a tad too bluish, but in this blog-room, I would have bouffant hair and be listening to records. {source:unknown}
There would be serious jolts of red and kid-art and wholly un-stodgy motifs strewn throughout. Silliness? In extra-large batches, please! {source}
Naturally, this blog-room is entered through the apple-green door. {source:unknown}
If this blog were a bedroom, it would have a roomful of beds because it is ALL about the grandbebe sleepovers! {source}
Orange-Jeanieous (Orange thrills me and makes me smile, and I finally created a board to collect images of happiness and named it as a take on the delicious Orange-Julius drinks of my youth).
Again with the records in this blog-room of my life! {source}
There is always a big bowl of crayons readily available at Nonna’s house for instant art-making! {source}
My Grandma Baker painted her living room “tangerine” in the 1960s. It was bold and delicious and someday I will do the same in my house. But until I have the courage, the walls of this blog-as-a-room are decidedly tangerine! Can’t you tell? {source}
And finally, from my “main” board (and some odds and ends boards), if Thought Collage {jeanierhoadesdotcom} were a room ~
My TRANSITIONAL Style (decor I thoroughly love, steeped in tradition, but embracing post-modern and cleaner lines, heavily sprinkled in bright, light fun, some Bohemian-hippie-style with lots of kid-love on the counters). Plus a couple of other boards on Pinterest.
I hope this blog-as-a-room is about comfort, no airs, just love and life and color and light. And lots of weird, interesting art on the walls. {source}
And there is old stuff mixed in with these new days, me recalling my growing-up-years and spilling the details and memories, mixing it up with life in the fast-lane we now know it to be. {source}
This room is full of quotes and books and music. {source}
This blog-room houses the glory – about my relationship with a Savior, the Savior. And this pin is my true story, as you know from reading. {source}
And this blog-room is nothing if not filled with family! And o-how-I-love the one God gave me. {source}
Yes, I pinned this. It still counts.
My thoughts, hodge-podged in the posts I share here, add them all up and what have you got? A rather noisy room with lots of color and mismatched elements, words about everything from songs to soups, from grandbebe cuteness to my personal sorrows and fears and tears. It is a messy thing, isn’t it, this blog room? But it is my own.
“And we have come to understand that in this house we are fulfilling our impossible dreams, and living our days in contentment and grace.” –Alexandra Stoddard
This playlist is a huge category. There are soooooo many songs about hearth and home or houses and hometowns. Quite overwhelming, actually. I had to leave off another 8 or 9 that I really liked (like “Lucky” Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait – to be used on a future list) just because I was determined to keep this list at 10. There is a playlist from YouTube at the end of this blog that includes each of the songs I have written about here.
I’m a home-grown, home-loving, home-girl. I don’t necessarily mean a house, either. I mean home the feeling, home the people. Home. Sweet home.
LORD, it seems You have been my home forever, from ‘once upon a time,’ to ‘happily ever after,’ (from before the mountains were formed until time is no more), You are God and You have been my God and my home. Psalm 90.1-2, my paraphrase
Check out my top ten songs and why they made the cut.
#1 Back Home Again, John Denver
Long story, told as sparingly as possible. The rest are shorter.
Why do I love this song? There is a whole family story. I cannot capture it here, but suffice it to say that my brother Joe (yes, that Joe), ran away from home. My dad had accepted a church far, far away from any home we’d ever known and there was some culture shock and he was a HS freshman and of course, we showed up mid-year, so it is hard.
It tore our family up – days of Joe just missing. But after the better part of a week, he was found and the police were putting him on a plane and my parents drove to New Orleans to get him and he wasn’t there. The airline said he hadn’t boarded. We all mourned even more. My mom was sick with sorrow. We assumed he ran again after the police delivered him to the airport. There was a heavy darkness at our house.
Then a phone call: the flight he’d been on was cancelled – he arrived late (airlines can be dumb). We all climbed in the Ford Station Wagon and went to get him. What a relief. There was much love and my dad took us to a really nice steak house and we feasted on the fatted calf, so to speak. The son had come home.
It was nearing midnight, I think, as we drove back to Robert, Louisiana, past our school-night bedtime. The excitement was quieting down and we were just so happy he was there. The family was settled in listening to the radio, still, as the car hummed along. Just as we pulled in to the driveway, John Denver’s voice filled the car
There’s a storm across the valley, clouds are rollin’ in
the afternoon is heavy on your shoulders.
There’s a truck out on the four lane, a mile or more away
the whinin’ of his wheels just makes it colder.
He’s an hour away from ridin’ on your prayers up in the sky
and ten days on the road are barely gone.
There’s a fire softly burning; supper’s on the stove
but it’s the light in your eyes that makes him warm.
My dad put the car in park, but none of us moved, not a muscle. We all sensed the holiness of the moment, the serendipity of this particular song at this distinct second in time…and we just sat there…in the driveway…in the late night – listening, knowing somehow God was blessing the boy coming home. We listened to every single word and note of that song, almost afraid to even breathe…
It’s the sweetest thing I know of, just spending time with you
it’s the little things that make a house a home.
Like a fire softly burning and supper on the stove.
And the light in your eyes that makes me warm.
Hey, it’s good to be back home again
Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend
Yes, ‘n, hey it’s good to be back home again.
It was a moment barely spoken of for years, for it was too precious. And it was this monumental transcendent time-fragment we’ll never forget. Because for all of the fear and sadness and rejoicing those days had brought, that moment became the time we knew we were together, all those miles from our kin and the life we’d known before, and we were home.
And the brother I loved was safe. My little Joey.
So how could I not love this song? It’s my number one song about home.
#2 The House that Built Me, Miranda Lambert
This was the Country Music Awards song of the Year in 2011, I believe, maybe 2010. Such a great song. It is the story of adult going back to the house she grew up in and asking the owner to let her come inside to look around. She calls it “the house that built me” because of all the memories of her experiences growing up there. It immediately, when I heard it, reminded me of 1723 York Street, an address which, if you read this blog, you’ll recognize {the house of my carefree-childhood memories}. A quick search and you will see the address shows up regularly here…I wonder how many times? :)
And I have always wanted to go back there, to my house-that-built-me and see if I could go through it. And if the owners now ever stumble on this blog – I hope they won’t think I am crazy. I hope they’ll just watch the Miranda Lambert video and be able to understand that many-many-many years ago, I was a little girl there, and the memories are sweet and fine. O, the projects I planned and the dreams I dreamed and adventures I experienced there…
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness in me might start healing…
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory from the house that built me.
#3 Home is Wherever I’m with You, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes
This song is so fun-gritty, backwoods-country-AND-modern and did-I-mention: fun. The sentiment is that “home” is where your “people” are, the ones you love the most, not so much a location and street address. And that is a true thing! Cute-cute-cute!
#4 Who Says You Can’t Go Home, Bon Jovi
Well Bon Jovi is a great rocker who wrote and performed this song, which highlighted the work of Habitat for Humanity. I like him a lot. Crank it up and roll down the windows and sing loud while you are enjoying your neighborhood. You can go home again!
#5 I’ll Be Home for Christmas, The Carpenters
Everybody and their dog has performed this classic Christmas number. This song, written about a WWII soldier coming home from war for Christmas, was first recorded by Bing Crosby in 1943. But then the likes of Amy Grant, Anne Murray and Andy Williams recorded it, too. Other covers were made by the Beach Boys, Smokey Robinson, Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand and Brad Paisley. Neil Diamond, Kenny Chesney and Elvis sang it, too. Hundreds of people have recorded the song and it is a lovely,melancholy tune recalling, with great affection, the beauty of “home.” It speaks of a longing, a homesickness, that resonates for all of us when we just wish we could be with the people we love, in a place we’re together.
Dave and I were talking about the renditions we heard most growing up. And though I feel like I heard the Johnny Mathis version a lot, we determined The Carpenters was the primary version we grew up with, that Karen’s haunting voice was the smooth sound that made this song relevant in the 1970s and beyond. She interpreted well and as far as songs about home, this one has to be in the mix because, Christmas or not – sometimes dreaming and remembering is the only way we actually get to be with our families, our loves.
#6 Home, Phillip Phillips
Phillip Phillips won 2012 American Idol. He was good and my pick from early on. He is very earthy and young, but also sort of timeless and seasoned and when the 2 finalists got to pick a song they’d release in case they won and I saw him perform this song, I was like, “O-my-gosh he will positively win this!” He just killed this song. In a good way.
And you know how sometimes when you first hear a song it takes a while to grow on you? This song was not like that. I loved it immediately! It speaks of some one making a place for you, a home, a safe place. LOVE it.
Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause i’m going to make this place your home
Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
Cause i’m going to make this place your home
#7 Green, Green Grass of Home, Tom Jones
It was the 1960s…and this song just sucked me in. I couldn’t seem to hear it enough back then and the surprise ending got me every. single. time. Tragic.
#8 Home, Michael Buble
Just smooth and sweet, sung by the super-suave crooner of the day. He is on the road (trying to write her letters) and and he is missing his love and he just wants to get on the plane and go home.
#9 House of Love, Amy Grant and Vince Gill
They sang this in 1994 way before they married and I do not really understand the official video (the little house thing?), but I just enjoy this hope-filled song. I had a friend going through a break-up when this was on the charts and this was the song we prayed through. And it is a fun song to sing and “the lights are coming on in the house of love.” And they did for my friend!
#10 Taking You Home, Don Henley
The gravely-soulful drummer-boy of the Eagles. “Take my hand, love, I’m taking you home, Taking you home.”
Come on. Let’s go home. :)
Embedded // the WHOLE playlist, in no particular order:
“For me, home is the coming together of my past memories and experiences, of my love for my children, husband and friends;…my optimism tangibly expressed in life-enhacing ways, room by room…” –Alexandra Stoddard
My brother Joe is reading an Erwin McManus book, Chasing Daylight, and was reflecting today, on moments, those brief, seemingly insignificant fragments of time that make up the whole of life. Joe shared from the book,
“However mundane a moment may appear, the miraculous may wait to be unwrapped within it.” -McManus
And then Joe pondered how many moments he may have missed, always reaching way out ahead for the “next thing,” or the thing we want more than what is in front of us.
Hey, I thought – I have pondered these same things. There was this book my friend Stephanie gave me…
So I searched my very own blog to share with him and as I re-read it, a post I had written on December 31, 2011, I realized, wow-here we are 260 days into the year and all the things I didn’t know were ahead when I wrote this, so quickly have come and gone. And more than ever I thoroughly realize I wasn’t just writing a clever end-of-year blog post for nameless, faceless readers, I was writing the mandate for my life; my creed, a declaration for my days:
“I am past the halfway mark now, but my senses and ability to feel love have increased exponentially with age, with experience. When the years rolled out ahead like there was no end in sight, I didn’t have to be as cautious in gathering memory, in recording the story, in remembering. But now that the lasts are happening, I don’t want to miss anything, not one thing.”
2012, day 260: I am an archivist, a legacy-leaver. I am telling the stories my family will need to know long after I am gone. I am preserving the small, inconsequential details of times and places and people that will be the foundation for understanding, for self-discovery, for the bright light of realization in times too fast and modern and post-modern to keep up with someday. The history, the memorabilia, the understanding of the great why will be carried close like treasure And the continuity of people and place and things past and their mark and significance on the then-present will connect transcendent dots on an invisible timeline of light and life and love battered, but triumphant. I am recording the gift of all present revelation and the secret clues to answers I may never find, but my progeny will…
“All the days planned for me were written in Your book before I was even one day old. What You have done is wonderful, I know this very well.”
Oh yes, I will carefully archive the evidence my offspring will need to solve the mysteries they face.
2012, day 260: I am an altar-builder. I call down worship in places once darkened by enemy rule and I gather stones of remembrance with sweat pouring off my brow, piling them, stacking the weight of the faithfulness of God throughout the generations towards our family, stone upon stone, line upon line, precept upon precept – to be remembered and dealt with in the light and glory of all for which Jesus’ blood accomplished on our behalves, while we were yet sinners.
I am an altar builder: Remember…don’t forget…oh, do you remember how wonderful this was?…And I will not leave them un-built, regardless of the state of brokenness or disrepair, for God is faithful. He is faithful. He is so faithful. And I am not deterred by the size of the stones, by the effort. I embrace the art it takes to stack stone with mortar, to work until balance is achieved, to build a lasting commemoration for those to come.
And when you have crossed the Jordan, set up these stones on Mount Ebal, as I command you today, and coat them with plaster. Build there an altar to the Lord your God, an altar of stones. Do not use any iron tool on them. Build the altar of the Lord your God with fieldstones and offer burnt offerings on it to the Lord your God. Sacrifice fellowship offerings there, eating them and rejoicing in the presence of the Lord your God. Deuteronomy 27.4-7
For these altars are gates, they are path guides, they are monuments symbolic of all that is completed, on earth as it is in heaven. I am building upon the foundations my parents set before, a great cloud of witnesses. My children and grandchildren and their children will build on these with greater light and revelation.
2012, day 260: I am remaining keen on the moments because the moments matter.
Swhew! That was a loooooooooong intro! Here is the blog post of which I speak…
Stephanie Morgan brought me a book by that title yesterday at Starbucks. The premise of the book, the author explained, is that in life, we record and particularly note and celebrate all sorts of firsts. There is a baby’s first tooth, first steps, first day of school – all beautiful milestones that deserve our attention! Yet, we are unaware of the things that pass, last things. She explained it by recalling a beautiful day outdoors with her kids when one of the little guys ran up, jumped into her arms, wrapped his legs around her waist and while touching noses told her, “I love you, mommy.” She noticed how big he was getting and how heavy he was, realizing he probably wouldn’t be doing that too much longer. Then she looked across the lawn and saw her oldest son who was about to enter middle school and realized that he used to run and jump into her arms the same way and that at some point it had been the last time.
And the thing about last times is, you usually just don’t know they are happening, and if you did, you might want to take closer note.
Of course, I read the book and it killed me.
O my goodness. I tried to tell Stormie about it when she came by earlier today. Cry. *Sniff, sniff. And to be silly and try not to be all melancholy, I grabbed Gavin, who was here helping us take down our Christmas decorations and cuddled him on to my lap like I have been doing since June 2003 and kissed his cheek and he is getting so big. At 8 1/2 he doesn’t quite melt into his Nonna’s lap anymore (he just told me he has an adult-sized head). He still likes the attention, but is slightly embarrassed. And I jokingly said, “Everybody remember this in case it is the last time.”
There was practically a boooo and an eye-rolling moan from everyone, but also apalpable realization that this – this moment, this totally open relationship between a little boy and his Nonna, is a relationship that will grow and change and be re-defined as he becomes who God created him to be and has to pull away to become independent before he can, with full confidence in who he is, move back in closer with appreciation for these two old people who have loved him since the day he was born. And there is realization that time is flying and kissy-cheeks from Nonna, at least in their present, freely-flowing form, are making their way into a land of remember-when-memories. And growth is good and the destination is the point, but it changes everything you love in the moments that make life worth living to begin with. Nothing stays the same.
The first time
I don’t recall, though I love baby’s feet, when the last time I kissed the bottoms of my children’s feet was? I know I kept kissing them, even when they were “too old” for it because it made them laugh and I wanted them to know I adored them all the way from the bottoms of their little feet. They weren’t babies in age, but they were my babies. I can’t remember the last time I braided my little girls’ hair (I remember combing long, silky locks – or terrible tangles…lots of them) or what year I quit weaving red ribbons intotheir braids at Christmas? In my ornament box, I found a note my mom tucked into the branches of our Christmas tree in 2001…was that my last Christmas with my mom? I don’t know when the last time we sang “Testify” together at some church or played Risk as a family or any other number of mundane things that make up life. When was the last time Tara baked Jiffy pizza-bread sticks, anyway?
Lasting impressions
I do know the book struck a chord, something deeply reverberating through my heart. I am past the halfway mark now, but my senses and ability to feel love have increased exponentially with age, with experience. When the years rolled out ahead like there was no end in sight, I didn’t have to be as cautious in gathering memory, in recording the story, in remembering. But now that the lasts are happening, I don’t want to miss anything, not one thing.
2011 ~ 2012
One year rolls into another. And the year we have just lived, all the beauty and joy and ups and downs and round-abouts and surprises and laughs, the tears, the disappointments, the things that did not go our way – all of it, with the slightest move of a second hand on a clock becomes {*tick} last year, {*tock} a new year.
The days ahead
We get this brand-spanking-new-year in just a few hours. It will be filled with so much yet-undiscovered adventure. I am hoping for 3 new grandbebes in 2012 – or at least some good work toward that! *smile. And I am excited to see what God is going to do through Heaven Fest this year and the songs I have yet to sing and the seasons changing and the garden tomatoes filling my counters and time with the love and watching the incredible lives of my children whom I cherish and the children they share…but like the author of the book, my prayer is, even as each day brings new things in a new year, “Let me hold on longer, God, to every precious last.”
{that was to have been the end of the post..but it turned out not to be the end}
This was totally unrelated
Gavin took a quick break from Christmas packing-away for a snack. I turned on the TV and an old Rockford Files episode was on. I said to the grand-boy, “See James Garner? Now that is some swagger.”
“What show is this, anyway?” he asked me.
“‘The Rockford Files’ from the 1970’s!” I told him.
He grimmaced and asked “Why do people want shows from the 70s anyway? Do they wish they had a time machine so they could go back there or something?”
Haha. Laugh. Laugh. Maybe…
But then it became related
Just now, as I was about ready to push the “publish” button on this post, Gavin was leaving to go home to have a special New Year’s Eve night with his family, games and snacks and good times. He came to say good-bye and I hugged him tight and said, “One last kiss in 2011.” He kissed my cheek. I feigned sorrow, “But now my other cheek needs one last kiss in 2011 – for you and I will never hug and kiss in 2011 ever again.” He giggled and kissed my other cheek before bolting toward the door as he quipped,
“Nuh-uh, Nonna – I will build a time machine to come back to 2011.”
{Heart m e l t i n g } And I would get into that machine, Gav, to collect all the lasts I have maybe missed.
Hello, 2012
Dear 2011 – you gave me all the days you promised you would and I will carry them in my heart forever.
Ok, Stephanie Morgan-you did this to me. Love you for the sharing. But you’re killing me! xxoo END RE-POST
It turns out that Hunter and I both LOVE to doodle.
When we researched doodling (yes, it is researchable), we even liked the same type of doodling, as there are many variations. Except I was still working on my first “mindless” piece of art while he completed 6. He likes lots of white space. I like to fill every single space with squiggles.
“On that part, we are different,” Hunter told me.
“The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.”
Guini’s 2nd grade class invited us to a Grandparent’s Day (the next day) appreciation event. They sang for us and did some rap and poetry and then they served us muffins and lemonade.
Her friend, Alana, was assigned to us because her grandparents didn’t live nearby. So we “adopted” her for the day and got double-good treatment.
I really appeciate the school teaching the kids to honor the generations. It will come back to them!
Love my Guin-Guin. Thanks for a delightful time, sweet Guinivere!
