Gentle rain falling throughout the night left these sparkling diamonds for me in the early morning walk through the green garden.
The daylilies will soon be bountiful with blossoms.
I’m RICH!
Have you ever had a thought and even though you knew down deep inside it wasn’t true, you also had a lot of evidence to support the fact that it is true? Sometimes an enemy lie or a loss or a self-defeating prophecy echoes through your head. It’s funny to us on the SNL movie “Stuart Saves His Family,” when he has to repeat the mantra “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and doggonnit, people like me, ” because we know that in reality he is hearing, “I’m going to die penniless and homeless. I am still 25 pounds overweight. No one will ever love me.” Stinkin; thinkin’.
And it is all pathetically untrue, for Stuart and for us. But we have those accusations that pierce.
Mine today was: everyone leaves you eventually. Nobody stays.
Then, playing a CD Tara gave me as one of my Mother’s Day presents (Hidden in My Heart ~ A Lullaby Journey Through Scripture, www.scripture-lullabies.com), this song broke through, and it is lovely and it is true. I know this.
I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU
“…For He Himself has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you,’ so we may boldly say: ‘The LORD is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?…'” Hebrews 13.5 NKJV
When your sky is cold and lonely and your heart is filled with fear
I will wrap my arms around you, know that I am here
And I will keep you safe and sound through the darkness that surrounds
{}
I will never leave you
Nor forsake you
Know that I am with you
You will never be alone.
{}
When your way is bright and glowing and your soul knows no despair
Can you hear Me singing with you? In your triumph I will share
For I am watching over you and I rejoice in all you do
{}
So remember, never doubt this
Hold it tightly to your heart
I’m forever always with you
I will be right where you are
But my question is, which is it? Lava from a volcano, as I was led to believe as a child, or is it pumice-powered – which I thought was some kind of thing from the ocean – hnaging out around the coral reef? Are these one and the same? Have I spent my life in the dark?
The old packaging I remember…except I don’t remember it being creamy white (only in the loosest sense of the word perhaps), and what I assume is current packaging telling me it is pumice-powered. What?!!? Is ground molten lava not powerful enough? What gives, I ask you?
GARDENING TIP #1: Must buy very bright, very cute gardening gloves at WalMart for $1.99. A really beautiful pair of garden gloves, meant to protect your hands, are an absolute necessity when facing garden chores. Why? Well, not to wear, because it is so much more fun to touch the hot, black soil with your bare hands and get a little dirty while gardening. But won’t they look cute and just make you so happy when you toss them on your gardening clogs in favor of going barefoot and you look at them and think, “Wow. I have gardening shoes AND gloves. I am such anamazing gardener!”? Oh, they will make you happy.
GARDENING TIP #2: For real. Scrape your nails over a cake of soap (but probably NOT lava or pumice-powered soap) before you place your bare hands in the black soil and when you are done and wash your hands – VOILA! No dirt under your nails. You can be seen in public!
GARDENING TIP #3: But if you forget step #2, please DO use the scrubby-soap pictured above. My Grandma Baker always had this in her bathroom (where she also apparently snuck cigarettes and I had no idea until I was grown) and using this soap is kind of like getting a hand massage. I washed my hands a lot at her house. A lot.
“If I had a day I could give to you, I’d give to you a day just like today. And if I had a song that I could sing for you, I’d sing a song to make you feel this way.” John Denver, Sunshine on My Shoulders
It IS that kind of day!… Jeanie
UPDATE 5/14: So-pumice, apparently, is more of a textural term for volcanic lava mixed with water. I must have been absent from school that day.
See what I mean? Happy!
NOTE TO SELF: Go see “Oceans” tonight with Stormie and catch up on my sea world/pumice education.
The best gift that I ever got
Didn’t really cost a lot
Didn’t have a ribbon ’round
And sometimes made a terrible sound
When you had surgery in January and I sat with you in the low lights of the hospital room as you recovered, I was struck with a deja vu so strong it nearly knocked the wind from me. There you were, my baby – grown, but fragile, capable and strong, yet set back and breakable. But I also saw myself….
Tara at 4
I was taken back in my memory to Broadway Methodist in Merrillville, Indiana 31 years ago, to me in a hospital bed, a brand new mommy/so young – having just delivered this mysterious bundle of blond joy. It was after dark, the room lights were low then too, and I was getting acquainted with you for the first time. I looked at that perfectly round, tiny head and the gentle slow movement of your eyes daring to open and look up at me. With great reservation I examined your hands and the contour of you, absolutely terrified to unwrap you and soak in the whole of you. I had been afraid to intrude.
But the connection I felt was beyond anything I had ever experienced. The intensity of emotion, as I’d approached labor with gritted teeth, determined to control my “situation” and handle it without “bothering anyone,” suddenly became stronger than my organized plans. When the labor room nurses scolded me for not letting them know how close I was to birth, for not arriving sooner (for I’d only at the hospital for 30 minutes and had nonchalantly received the hospital gown and instructions as if I had all day), I wondered why they couldn’t understand that I was alone, that I’d been pregnant alone, that I would birth alone and somehow in silence, I would make my own wrongs right…all alone. Understand, of course, that my skewed understanding was that of a teenage girl who did not understand that I’d never been left, never forsaken.
But then one, two, and barely 3 pushes and there you were – the girl I secretly hoped for, but had never allowed myself to believe I’d get. You were perfect and pink and easy. And they plopped you on me like a basket of laundry and you barely made a sound, though transcendance thundered through my body and I trembled with awe.
The best gift that I’ve ever known
I’ve always wanted most to own
Yet in my dreams of sugar and spice
I never thought it could be so nice
But later, in that room, just us two, I knew that you were mine, a gift straight from God. “I don’t know you yet, but I know I love you,” I whispered, wondering who you’d be and if you could ever love me back. Yet, even then, in the dim light, when you looked at me, I sensed that already, this baby, this gift from God for me in spite of myself, already understood and was joined to my heart. The deep communion of that perfect night between you, me and God, {deep breath} ~ I was certain I could read your heart and you mine, as if we were communicating on some empathetic plane. I truly believe He was there, our Father, in that room, sealing our relationship, blessing our future. And I knew I was no longer alone, however self-exiled I’d been.
The best gift I could ever get
Was sometimes dry and sometimes wet
Was usually pink, but oftentimes red
As she lay so innocently in her bed
Mercy was rewriting my life that night in a way I had no words to express. The gift of God, eternal and true was being visited upon me in the most humbling way possible. For the merciful gift of this baby girl who would become to me my joy, my very own proof of the amazing grace and endless love of the Father for me, to me and through me ~ left me speechless. I needed mercy. And through you, my sweet Tara, I have found it again and again.
And here is what I knew in January after your surgery and what I know every day and everytime I am around you: You are one of the most incredible human beings on the planet, a woman I admire and love beyond belief. You are grace and mercy and joy. And I am so pleased to call you mine.
The best gift of the year to me
The one I hold most dear to me
The gift that simply drove me wild
Was my tiny, newborn child.*
Happy Birthday, Tara. Mercy and joy, grace and peace back to you, my gracious gift of God.
*LYRICS: The Best Gift by Barbra Streisand. Bill Tull and Mary Tiller sang this at your dedication service June 1979, as suggested by Bill. I’d never actually heard it before then (from one of her early Christmas albums), but it was true of you. Still is.
My munchkins. My babies, mon bebes. My adorable children. My little brood. My life. My joy. My call. My all. My destiny. My heritage. My quiver-full. My laughter and fun. My hopes for the future. My dreams and the fulfillment of them.
Mydaughters and son – you are mine (at least on loan from heaven) and I am so pleased with you. You are my boast. I am so grateful to God for the human beings He knit together inside my womb and how you were exactly what I needed and beyond all I ever hoped for.
I wasn’t a good babysitter as a teen ~ gagged at diapering, thought I ‘d die if I ever had to clean up vomit. I didn’t see myself as a good mommy candidate, but my ultra-fruitful ability to get pregnant from across the room changed everything and your birth, the physical act of your freshly created selves moving from my womb into my arms turned out to be, without fail in each of you, another miraculous act of God’s healing for my heart. For each time He blessed me me with a child, my love capacity was increased in a way I did not think was humanly possible. He trusted me. And entrusted me with you, each of you…
“when — naked, soaked in sweat and blood, and a heart thumping from a marathon — you are squeezing onto your bosom ‘the whole universe wrapped in harmony with your soul’ and realize that this is the tiny body of your own baby. Mytyr, Mana, Mater, Muter, Madre, Mother, Mamma, you are the circle of life; heaven and earth pass through you.” (Eleftheria Mantzouka)
So on Mother’s Day, a day set aside to honor our mothers (and mine is so honorable), I want to thank you for making me a mom. I want to bless you and tell you how much I love you and how grateful I am for the opportunity to find something of the redeeming grace of God in my life because of you. There are things I have learned that I could not have any other way. And I am humbled that He allowed me to know Him better and understand His amazing love by getting to be a mom. I love you all. I love the ones you have joined with as one who have become mine. I love the babies you are rewarding me with in my old age. You are the children whom God has graciously given me, His servant. Oh I am blessed.
And when Esau lifted up his eyes and saw the women and children, he said, “Who are these with you?” Jacob said, “The children whom God has graciously given your servant.” Genesis 33:5 ESV
So, my ones, my Tara, my Stephanie, my Tredessa, my Rocky and my Stormie~ I bless you and love you and thank God for you.
The Lord bless you and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine upon you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace (Num. 6:24-26).
My prayer
So for the privilege of being their mom, I pray for my familia~ Dave, Tara and Hunter; Steph, Tris, Gavin, Guini and Gemma; Tredessa and her future husband and children; Rocky, Jovan, Averi and Amelie Belle; Stormie and her future husband and children, I bring them under your authority and covering, even as I come under your authority and covering. I cover my children and grandchildren with your blood – their spirit, soul and body, their heart, mind and will. I ask your Spirit to restore them in you, renew them in you. Smile on the ones You gave me, Father.
I bring the life and the work of Jesus over my family, my children and grandchildren and over all we are, the good, the bad and the times we haven’t understood one another; the right things I did and the awful mistakes I made. For You are enough for it all, Lord, and I thank you. Bless the fruit of my womb. And show me how to be the mom they need now, the one You created me to be because of Your great love for them…
I love you, my kiddos. You make my Mother’s Day happy.
Happy Mother’s Day To Tara, Stephanie and Jovan, too: three of the most amazing mommies I have ever known. And to my friends and family who are mommies. If I know you and like you, I also love the kind of mom you are. Otherwise-I wouldn’t like you at all. So: Good job! Happy Day!
Wow, I am blessed. What a godly, gentle and guileless person you are. What a good mommy you were to me when I was so little and you were so young. I love that you always just wanted to be a mama. I LOVE that I got to be first in making you a mom! I love that there were 22 hand-sewn dresses waiting for my arrival, that you were so anxious to be a mommy you couldn’t stop that crazy exuberance of yours from preparing for me.
You taught me about heaven and end times (when I was four!) and the first two words I could ever spell were B-i-b-l-e and Oh, you can’t get to heaven without s-a-l-v-a-t-i-o-n because you sang me those songs over and over. You made me cry telling me the story of Bambi and Roy Rogers’ stuffed horse, Trigger (housed, you informed me, in a Roy Rogers museum in Hollywood where you someday dreamed of going) and you made me listen to country music and though I eschewed it for years, I have come full circle and truly appreciate its place in my life now. You told me where puppies came from and bought me the Christian book about sex called Almost Twelve when I was only ten. But you only let me read 2 or 3 pages at a time, every few months, and it did end up taking me until I was actually almost 14 to finish it, but that doesn’t really matter since if that book had been my only sex education, I still wouldn’t know what the heck was happening!
You taught me to cuss like a Christian.
“Oh, crap-a-dap!”
You were never too busy to stop and explore something fun.
I love how you are creative and so totally unpretentious. And I love how your life has been filled with you discovering new passions and finding new hobbies and you have just never gone dull. There has always been something delightful and new to picque your interest. I mean, you became an award-winning horse photographer after the age of 55 and had your work on magazine covers! What a resourceful, inspiring, virtuous woman you are! You are SO Proverbs 31!
You are long-suffering and always believe the best in everyone. You let people walk on you ~ determined to win them over and though I advise you to tell them where to get off, you do, in fact, always win them over and there isn’t anyone I know who doesn’t love you. And if there is anyone in the whole wide world who doesn’t love you? I don’t even want to know them. Someday I hope I can be more like you, mamakins, because you are wonderful.
Mares eat oats and does eat oats
And little lambs eat ivy
A kid’ll eat ivy, too, wouldn’t you?
We’d lie across the bed and sing this and laugh our heads off. It was years before I even knew what I was singing. And wasn’t that the point?
As if being a good mommy to me when I was young wasn’t enough, you are my most cherished friend and confidante now. You are my biggest cheerleader and when you nag me about overwork and taking care of myself and hold me accountable for making every effort to enter in to that Sabbath rest that remains (Heb. 4), I naturally rebel or pretend all is well. But inside I am happy that there is a human being on earth who takes the time to actually care anything at all about me. I love you, mom. Thank-you. Thank-you. Thank-you.
Then
You dreamed of me. You planned for me. You wanted me. And you have never given up on me. And though I even know as you read this you would say to me, “Oh, Jeanie, I am not perfect. I have a lot of faults,” and perhaps this is true, the only thing that really matters to me on Mother’s Day and every day is that you are PERFECT for me! You were the only woman in the world God could trust to be my mom and I am grateful He knew…
Now
One of my favorite remembrances ever shall be that when we found out the Roy Rogers Museum had moved from California to Branson – just 45 minutes from your house, I got to take you to see Trigger (whom you’d actually seen ALIVE when you were a young girl…doing his tricks and carrying your beloved Roy Rogers). And just before the museum closed down for good, together, we got to see all the things you’d told me about in my earliest memories (3 or 4 years old) and we stood there singing “Happy Trails to You” in the fan room, me at 50, you at 70-ish – our girlhood fancies intertwined…We are from so long ago, it is as if we have always been. You are my mama and I am your baby girl, forever and always.
On my last birthday you wrote this in an email:
“You just can’t know how very, very happy I was when you arrived in October 1959. Wow! My Dream had come true!!”
I am among the most blessed women of the world. I have such great treasure. I am rich in a way that most people can only wish – to have my mom say words like these to me.
I love you, Norma J. Moslander, my mom.
J e a n i e
You have more than fulfilled the “prediction” in your high school senior yearbook, mom-ma! You have pleased God. It is certain.
“Give her the reward she has earned and let her works bring her praise at the city gates.” Proverbs 31.31 NIV
One morning each spring, early, just as the sun has broken above the rooftops and is blazing through the windows and doors of the back of the house, you see it. You walk in to the dancing shadows of the freshly, fully-leafed Aspens, which have turned the kitchen into a happy stage of gentle movement playing tag with light. You hold out your hand so the show can alight and tickle your fancy for just a moment and then let it run unabashedly around the room.
Oh, hello, summer shade! You have returned – you’re back! So great to see you. I have missed you so much.
Every year, without fail, I once again forgive the deciduous for breaking my heart and leaving me in the autumn. I am like that.
Last night my papasan had a heart attack. He, the strong one, the one who got his blood pressure under control a few years back and who eats right and exercises and got his cholesterol numbers where they should be and is a bit of a health nut. He, of the type-a, driven variety, but who, having added being healthy to his task list, seemed to have conquered all issues, the victor. My sweet little mom said, “This wasn’t suppose to happen to him. He is so healthy.”
But he comes from some pretty substantial unhealthiness genetically and the oft’ heart-attacked. Some things you can’t outrun. But he was never one to run, anyway. He will face it full in the face and become the victor once again. One artery was fully blocked and another a lot blocked. They put stints in and he is recuperating and doing well. And in charge, par usual, I am hearing.
Pray for him with me, OK? He’s my dad, the first man in my life and my personality doppleganger. I thank God for him and I thank God for being with him through this, for His faithfulness to my dad for all the years of his life. And mine.
But my dad better mellow out a little…or else. He is on MY list now.
UPDATE 5.5.10 ~ After a little late-night heart surgery Monday, by Tuesday afternoon he was requesting to go home to recuperate where he could ‘really get some rest’. I am glad they kept him though, so my mom can rest! He will probably go home today and said he actually is feeling much better than on Monday. Mom said she could barely keep up with his to-do lists even though he in a hospital bed, which secretly makes her very happy.
UPDATE 5.7.10 ~ He is home and doing really well. He started his walking routine again today, though he tried to back it off from the norm. He sounds energetic and happy and grateful to God for his quick recovery. He did say that the 3 or 4 hours he delayed in going to the hospital did cause some permanent damage, but in the ICU the morning after the surgery, the staff already knew he was quite unlike the other patients and was recovering very quickly. Within a week, he should be back at most things. Crazy. Good. Thank-you, Lord!
Pond garden weeded, re-arranged, added to and mulched. Pretty. Now it is time for Dave to get the fountains running and fish fat and happy. And for Rocky to replace all the lily pads he threw out which he found distracting and bothersome, but which I’d spent 4 years cultivating! Tsk.
I’ve got pieces of April, I keep ’em in a memory bouquet
I’ve got pieces of April, but it’s a morning in May**
May Day memory:
As kids in Des Moines in the 1960s, we’d create “baskets” from paper: usually a cone-shaped affair with a “handle” attached. We’d fill the containers with candy or lilacs, which happily bordered the yard, and hang them on neighbor’s doors, ring the bell and then run. May Day was the most sunny, delightful holiday of them all. No pressure, no rules – just try to be sweet to people annonymously. Shouldn’t we be doing more of that?
Pictured: google images. The ones we did as kids had spring flowers like these on the left, but were paper cones like on the right. I like the idea of the paper flowers with the Rolo glued to the center shown here. Hmmmm…..hope some one does this for me today! Chocolate + caramel = Rolos YUM
A great website to visit on May Day~www.MayDae.com
CLICK HERE: www.maydae.com Two of my super-cool daughters’ website using their middle names. What have they got up their sleeves today, I wonder? Read all the posts you have missed and I promise you’ll be smarter and way more hip by the time you have finished!
“April gave us springtime, and the promise of the flowers…”**
The Kelley Kids: Gavin-the-Great, Guini-my flower girl, and GemGem the delightful!
Hunter-Magoo at a video shoot doing the Heaven Fest dance!
Planning for May fun. Bright and cheery. Weddings and graduations, showers and celebrations galore!
April hair: mine is brown-black (on purpose this time) and Dave’s is growing back. Left: what he looked like at the end of March having just finished 2 months of keeping it shaved for the ANNIE performances. Right: this is now.
**LYRICS: From [possibly] my favorite Three Dog Night song, Pieces of April, written by Dave Loggins. He explains: “I wrote [Pieces of April] at a very special time of my life. Special, because I met the ‘love of my life’ and had recently lost her. By chance, we were together for three consecutive Aprils and then she left me for good. Today, I don’t know where she is or how her life turned out. May is symbolic of the present, April was, and still remains a sweet yesterday. I have never really gotten over ‘April’ and the ‘pieces’ still remain. Those sweet Aprils… It’s my favorite song, too.” -Dave Loggins
