NC Visit - Day 3. . .

Another relaxing day of visiting, crocheting and playing with Kaitlyn. We explored each little nook in the yard, counted stones again, practiced balance walking on the landscaping ties and wore empty flower pods on the tips of our fingers. I said, "No, thank-you" to tasting the dirt she offered me on the tip of her shovel; so she ate it herself and said, "Mmmm."

Oh, and I bought a new battery for my watch.

NC Visit - Day 2. . .

This has been a relaxing day, much of it spent outside. Kaitlyn and I scritched-scratched in the dirt, chased the purple ball, counted stones and she read alphabet letters to me from the WELCOME mat.

My allergies have kicked in!

NC Visit - Day 1. . .

The flight down was smooth and uneventful and even arrived fifteen minutes early. Although flying is not one of my favorite things to do, I must say there is something very serene about being lifted upwards, out of the misty gray fog and into the sunny blue sky on top of the clouds. I

wonder how the same clouds that appear heavy and dark from one side can look so pure white and fluffy from the other. It's a good reminder that there are often more perspectives than we realize. Looking down and seeing the hustle and bustle of daily life and traffic, in miniature, reminded me of the days when my older girls played with matchbox cars in the stone dust pile.

It's good to be here. Now, to settle in and soak up my family.

The greatest of these is love. . .

I'm taking a coffee break, sitting on the porch, watching laundry dancing on the clothesline, listening to the windchimes and trying hard to resist yard work so I can get back to the tasks at hand. The birds keep swooping at the feeder, making haste back to the trees where they scold me for my invasion. The few that are a little more stout-hearted pause long enough to give me inquisitive looks as if they are asking, "What are YOU doing here?"

With my trip right around the corner, I'm having my usual pleasure vs. apprehension conflict. First and foremost, when I compare thoughts of missing out on a daffodil's bloom or the first forsythia, with forgoing time with my family, there is, of course, no contest! It is true, however, as the saying goes--home is where my heart is and I never want to miss out on any of the subtle changes of each season. I remember how left out I felt last fall when I was not here for the first snowfall.

There are lessons to be learned in all things, though, and the mild (in comparison) dilemmas of my simple life are no exception. This place--this home and grounds I love to tend--are "things." Most of which will manage just fine when I am long gone. And even if they don't, it won't matter because they have neither heart nor soul--they don't "feel." My family, on the other hand, is very real, our hearts do feel and our relationships are so very precious. Things disappear and people die, but love lasts forever and relationships never die. Their essence surrounds us and holds our hands through our journey.

But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love. I Corinthians 13:13

Ash Wednesday. . .

It's hard to believe Ash Wednesday is here already and we are about to focus on what I consider to have been the most remarkable journey of all time! I wonder, sometimes, what if Jesus had been believed instead of mocked? What if there had been joyous celebration instead of a crucifixtion? What would the world be like today, if only there had been faith in the minds of the multitudes? And, what about those who may have had that faith, but were afraid to speak up? It is a scene that replays in my mind often--particularly this time of year. Everytime it does, more questions come to mind about what it really must have been like to be there. Further, what would I have done? Would I have had the courage to speak? Sadly, maybe not. But if not, how would I have ever lived with the cowardice of keeping silent? Even so, I would have been forgiven! How marvelous is that?! I believe that is called unconditional love.

A Cozy Day. . .

Ah...this is a cozy, rainy day. The kind of day that brings fresh-baked bread, homemade soup and crafts to mind. Not that I will necessarily do any of those things, although I might...we'll see. The woods are full of mysterious mist and all outdoor sounds are amplified. From inside, I feel soothed and very peaceful, wrapped in the closeness of the elements.

I realize there was a time when I would have described such a day as gloomy and depressing, and I would have been impatient for the snow to be all gone, for the fog to lift, the sun to shine and make all things bright and beautiful--according to ME. Somewhere along the line--my lifeline--my journey, that changed. I'm not sure exactly when it happened. I think it was a process more than a sudden revelation. My realization of the process having taken place was more abrupt, though, and since the transition was already complete, there was nothing for me to do except give thanks for this new (to me) and wonderful gift.

Don't get me wrong, a totally passive existence is not what I am suggesting. The gift is in learning, not only to recognize, but to accept the things we cannot change. Such as the weather. What I have found is that the process doesn't have to end with acceptance. The gift goes on until, sometimes, we can even embrace that which we originally wished to change.

I do embrace days like this.

Besides, on plenty of occasions, Bob would say, "Wish in one hand, s--- in the other, and see which one gets full, first." And you know. . .he was absolutely right!

A Perfect World. . .

I don't know what made me think of this right now, but, for some reason--right in the middle of making the birthday chocolate sheet cake that Michael requested, I began to wonder what my idea of a perfect world might be. A vision unfolded--just as I stuck my finger in the icing for a sample. I found myself smiling--as I watched my leftover morning coffee reheat in the microwave. "It's very simple," I thought, "and would require very little effort, really." What I saw in my mind's eye was this: Every person in the world forming one big circle, then each turning to the one on the left, and asking, "What can I do for you?"

I'm not sure why I was smiling. I would like to think it was a reflection from the imaginary mere glimpse of something so wonderful! But I'm afraid it might have been the result of some self-ridicule going on there, too, as reality began closing in and clouding my vision.

However. . .which IS reality? WHAT is reality? And who decides? I think I'm going to choose to hold out--to continue to believe--to have faith--that my version of a perfect world is at least a possibility.