Something 2 say

My heritage

2011-09-28T23:01:00.016-04:00

Now most people would assume that when I say that the reason I’m drawn back to Ballyvaughan is because of my heritage, that I’m talking about my Irish blood. While I know I have some Irish blood (and I’m proud of every drop!), I’ve never delved deep enough to find out how much or exactly where in Ireland my distant relatives came from.

When I refer to my heritage as one of the reasons I’m drawn back to Ballyvaughan, I’m talking more about my rural heritage. You see, I came home from the hospital in Austin,to my grandparent’s farm in south Texas and continued to live there for several months. My Daddy was enrolled at Baylor Law School and would commute down to the farm on weekends. And, even after I stopped living there full time, I spent lots of time there with my beloved grandparents—Nana and Bampa.

I called the cows with my Bampa; rode with him on the combine, tractor and his red pick-up truck; “helped him” pick cotton at a very early age and even got to ride on the back of the trailer, pilled high with cotton, to the cotton gin. I collected eggs with my grandmother; “helped” her churn butter, bake bread, and cook all sorts of delectable foods from scratch. Bampa taught me to play dominoes at the age of 7 and then boasted to everyone that I beat him and “I swear I didn’t let her win!” I was always happy on the farm. The reason: I felt totally loved for myself, with few expectations.

So Ballyvaughan feels familiar; it feels like coming home. And most importantly, I feel loved and accepted as me—not as a Mother, grandmother, sister, chaplain, Deacon—just me. And as much as I treasure each of those roles most of the year, it’s so wonderful to return to my beginnings—my farm environment and just being me.

Why go back each year?

2011-09-18T23:41:00.013-04:00

So now that I've explained how I found Ballyvaughan, it's time to dissect what draws me back each year.

Ballyvaughan is a rural village. There are a handful of pubs, a small grocery store, one church-St. John the Baptist Catholic Church, a couple of gift shops, several eateries, a tiny post office, a small health clinic, the Saturday Farmer's Market, the Sunday Craft Fair, and a lovely assortment of special days throughout the year. It has everything you could need or want while on holiday.

Christy, Mary, Catherine & Tom
Then there are the people-the warm, welcoming, hard-working, fun-loving people. Each year they welcome me back like a long lost cousin. At the top of that list of special people are Tom and Catherine, and Tom's sister, Mary and her husband Christy. Tom is the local hackney driver, with Catherine filling in the gaps. Catherine is the very first person I met as I walked off the plane in Shannon. She and son, Aiden, picked me up, along with friends and family back in 2008-our first time to spend a month. These loving people take care of me, and not just my transportation. From serving as resources to providing my social network, they are there for me. And, I host them for dinner as often as possible, and take lots of photos of their family and surrounding community.

With Mary @ Farmer's Market

Catherine & I sharing good times.

People ask me if I rent a car in Ireland. I tell them no, I rent a Tom. Between Tom & Catherine and Mary, all my transportation needs (which are very few) are taken care of. Plus, the village is on a bus line, which travels 45 min. to Galway, where you can take buses and trains throughout Ireland, including a 2.5 hr. train ride to Dublin. So the village is ideally situated public transportation and Tom takes care of airport runs and local sightseeing trips

There are many beautiful places in Ireland but none more breathtaking than Ballyvaughan. Situated on Galway Bay and in the heart of the Burren, it has a mystical quality about it. The Bay ebbs and flows in a magnificent variety of colors, washing up onto a rocky shore, full of treasures for the boys to collect.

The Burren, "great rock," is a limestone plateau occupying an area of over one hundred square miles in North Clare. Here the unfolding layers of limestone form terraces on the slopes of the hills - a limestone desert but with a quick-changing landscape. The limestone formed as sediments in a tropical sea which covered most of Ireland approximately 350 million years ago.

At least two glacial advances are known in the Burren area. However it is probably the effects of the last glaciation (the Midlandian) that are most in evidence in the National Park. It is thought that most of the Burren was overrun by ice during this glaciation.

Solutional processes have widened and deepened pre-existing vertical joints, or lines of weakness in the rock resulting in the formation of an extensive system of fissures (grykes) separated by flat pavement like slabs (Clints).

The Burren is also famous for its plantlife. Limestone-loving plants such as foxgloves and rock roses grow here and rock's microclimates also nurture plants found in the Artic, Alpine and Mediterranean regions. Botanists have attempted to find out why, but no one has come up with a complete answer. Here too in The Burren, 26 of Ireland's 33 species of butterfly have been recorded, including its very own, the Burren Green. Does all of this not have my name written all over it?!

More on my ties to Ballyvaughan in the next post.

Sharing God's creation

2011-08-26T09:22:00.005-04:00

Fri., Aug. 26
The children, big and small, arrived early Wed. morning so the cottage has an entirely different feel to it. Where once it was very quiet, calm, and peaceful, now it is alive with high energy, excitement, and lots of noise!

Colin (6.5) and Dylan (3) and their Mom, Sara, and their Uncle Charles, landed in Shannon at 6a Wed. morning and Tom brought them to the cottage about 8a. Colin had fallen asleep in the van, so Uncles Charles carried him straight to bed. But, when I scooped Dylan up his first words were, "donkey?, cows?, horses?" He evidently, had gotten a bit more sleep on the plane and was ready to go exploring.

Across the road from the cottage is the beautiful Galway Bay. There is a great-for-walking-on stone fence separating a large, grassy, sloping area where 5 cherished donkeys live. Early this summer, 2 babies were born to the family and dance about, much to the delight of all the tourists.

This was Dylan's and my first stop in our morning of exploring. This particular morning, they had wandered a bit out from the fence but I promised him we would gather food (apples, bread @ carrots) to come back and feed the donkeys. As we walked around the corner from our cottage, towards town, there was a large gathering of cows. Dylan says, "those are my friends."

On into town, we pop into Hyland's, my hang out for wifi, friendships, delicious vegetable soup, and hub of the village. Everyone is pleased to meet Dylan, who is his sweet charming self. Una, the hotel manager, scoops him up and he gives her a big grin, while Katy Rose, a beautiful young woman, who does everything at Hyland's from serving food, to desk attention, also cheerfully welcomes Dylan to Ballyvaughan.

Another stop at Quinn's, my favorite gift shop in Ballyvaughan, to meet Madeline; a quick look into the Soda Parlor, to see if Josh and Amy are around but they are not; a d we've hit some of my favorite spots and people. Time to head back to the cottage for a nap.

Shortly after I settle Dylan down for a nap, Colin wakes up. (Meanwhile both Sara and Charles are sound a sleep). Colin only has one thing in mind-going to the shore to look for crabs, shells, rocks with "crystals" embedded in them, and other treasures. Last year he spent hours doing this, especially with my best friend, Hope. Just before he came this summer, unbeknownst to him, she had sent him a large magnifying glass to aid him in his discoveries. I slipped it in my suitcase and he was delighted to use it on his new discoveries.

One of the many pleasures I enjoy with the grand-boys, is teaching them about God in a simple, but very real way. I tell them that God created each and every shell, rock, crab on the beach. He created the sun and moon, the tide that washes up all those treasures. He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow and will always be there for us. Just as the water washes up on the shore, in smooth, gentle waves, so does His unconditional love. In bits and pieces (a favorite expression over here), I share my faith with the boys and enjoy their trusting acceptance of that faith.

A new friend-Maureen Green

2011-08-23T18:18:00.002-04:00

I will return to this story of my discovery and love affair with Ballyvaughan, but first a sweet story of a new friendship-one of many!

Monday, Aug. 22, 2011
A perfectly delightful, surprise visit this morning from my new friend from North Yorkshire, England, Maureen Green. I'm sitting in my conservatory, as they call my glass enclosed room over here, sipping coffee in my pjs, listening to worship music, luxuriating in the view, when she taps on my window.

I met Maureen at the Soda Parlor on Saturday. I was already seated enjoying my very favorite crepe, Brie, crispy bacon and a bit of cranberry chutney, when Maureen comes in and sits at a table opposite me. We catch each other's eyes, we smile, and thus begins our connection.

As she studies the menu and peers over at me in that familiar way of viewing other's food for ideas of what to order, I volunteer my selection and declare it to be superb, which she promptly orders.

The Soda Parlor is very small and intimate, with probably no more than 8 tables so on any day, but especially a Sat., it stays full. All the tables are full and two women enter looking for a table. (I have become quite close to the hard-working young family who operate it and want them to have all the business they can manage so they can stay in business until my next visit.) I ask the two women to wait one minute and I go over to my smiling friend, Maureen, and tell her I would like to give up my table to the ladies. Would I be imposing if I joined her while we both finished our lunches. She welcomed me eagerly and thus has begun a wonderful friendship.

Maureen is 73 young years; a widow since last Sept., to a "good and kind man", who died after an 18 mo. battle with leukemia; has 3 dear daughters, 8 grandsons, and 3 great-grandsons; runs the family business of the engineering of gears for machinery, which she has recently sold, with great relief; travels; is chair of the Governor's Board of Education, which looks over the management of the school budgets as well as the curriculum; a woman of deep faith; and a lover and appreciator of life, just like me.

She has her beautiful springer spaniel with her, Paddy, which she leaves in the car until I insist that she bring him in. And thus a delightful friendship is started. We exchange emails, pictures are taken, and I invite her to come visit me in Washington, as well as here in the village next summer.

I am learning to be more and more open to each moment, each person God brings into my life. We walk amongst people in need; people hungry to be heard and cared about. Having the time and heart for those opportunities makes for lots of wonderful surprises and treasured moments.

Planning begins

2011-08-22T11:44:00.003-04:00

It was about a year later, fall of 2007, that I began to plan my return trip to Ireland for the summer of 2008. On my previous trip, as I said, I had hit all the typical tourist spots: Dublin, Rock of Cashel, Waterford, Killarney and the Ring of Kerry, Blarney (No, I did not kiss it. I had no interest in hanging upside down to kiss the dirty thing.), Tipperary, to name the highlights. I am so glad that I saw all of those sights, with the wonderful overview of the island.

But when I began to plan my extended stay in some single village, I wanted to get away from the tourist hot-spots. That's when I began to look at the west coast.

I considered the Dingle peninsula, a gorgeous seaside area, but too busy with tourists in the summer. I then started north, along the coast from there. I seriously considered Lahinch, a surfing village, and one my family loves to visit, but too young and hip (and noisy) for my tastes. Next, north on the coast was Doolin, some consider the music capital of western Ireland but, again, too young and hip. Then there was Fanore, the next village south of where I am in Ballyvaughan. It was TOO quiet and small, with only one pub and a tiny market.

At the same time I was spending hundreds of hours researching, I got to know a woman, Bonney, who was taking her granddaughter to the same music class I was taking Colin to and we became good friends. I knew her husband was Irish and they returned frequently, so I asked her if she had a any recommendations and told her what I was looking for: a seaside village with a few pubs, shops, B&B's, that I could settle into for a month and just chill out with friends and family.

GODSEQUENCE Alert. She said her cousin, Louise, would be more than happy to help me. Louise worked for the Irish Tourism Board and lived in County Cork. Bonney would introduce us via email and Louise would find us the perfect place.

And so, that's how I found my first rental house and in Ballyvaughan. God's hand was in it from the very beginning, thus, the beginnings of abundant blessings.

Resurrecting the blog

2011-08-20T19:25:00.001-04:00

I've been thinking for quite some time about resurrecting my blog but just haven't gotten around to it. But here I am, in the beautiful village of Ballyvaughan, County Clare, on the west coast of Ireland, over-looking Galway Bay with the time and the inclination and I have...Something 2 Say.

Many ask me, How did you find this place? Why do you go back each year? What draws you back? I will attempt to put into words, the answers to these questions and more reflections of how this place renews and fulfills me each year.

I, like many Americans, have a mixed bag of ethnicity: Irish, Scotch/Irish, German, English and even Cherokee Indian blood flowing through me. And , for all I know other strains of our rich blend of ethnic diversity. My Mother's side of the family had the German blood and some Scotch/Irish; my Daddy all the rest.

It was my Daddy who LOVED the Irish. He had many Irish friends, loved St. Patrick's Day, and inspired in me a love of all things Irish. So, I grew up thinking the Irish were very special people, having caught the fever from Daddy.

In 2005, I came with a group from my church to the Baptist World Alliance (BWA) meeting in Birmingham, England, followed by tours of England, Wales and Ireland. From the first moment I landed on the Emerald Isle I was enchanted. There was something different about this place that drew me in. I only spent a very few days, visiting all the tourist spots, but promised myself then, that I would return and for a good long time!

I was thankful that although I had already lost Mother in 2004, at the time (2005), Daddy was still alive and alert enough to know where I was and be oh so happy for me to be experiencing his beloved Ireland.

I knew I would return to Ireland, after my caregiving days were over and I had time to re-group from the devastating loss of both my beloved parents within two years of each other. So after Daddy died in 2006, and I slowly worked through my shattered life (we had been a tight, inter-dependent threesome and now I felt like a 3-legged stool with 2 legs chopped off!), I began to plan my return.

54.9 in. of snow so far!

2010-02-10T16:44:00.008-05:00

I had just come in from shoveling my sidewalk when this very large branch broke off and fell across my sidewalk.

The boys playhouse.

The view out my front door.

A Road Trip Down Memory Lane: Intro

2010-01-12T19:58:00.037-05:00

The older I get, the more relationships mean to me. In fact they define me. The third time I battled cancer (and won!), I realized that what was important to me could be summed up in a word: RELATIONSHIPS. First, my relationship with my Heavenly Father, who is always by my side; second, my relationship with family and friends.

I have been blessed with a host of friends of every age, color, economic level, educational level and everyone in between. I keep up with as many as possible but some have dropped by the side in the busyiness of life. Recently I have been making a conscious effort to reconnect with some who were important to me and I'd lost touch with.

Last fall, I called a life-long friend of mine, Joan, and suggested that right after Christmas we take a road trip through central Texas. I had a host of people I wanted to re-connect with, plus I wanted us to go back to our roots together. You see not only have Joan and I known each other literally all of our lives (we are 12 days apart and she will frequently tell people I am the older one), but our mothers were very close friends as were our grandmothers and great-grandmothers. They all grew up in a (very) small farming community, 54 miles south of San Antonio (on the Corpus highway)-Karnes City. Those descriptions were what we grew up with. It was not about 55 miles south, it was 54 miles. And if you gave them a puzzled look as to where it was, the descripter "on the Corpus highway" almost always turned on a lightbulb of recognition.

Our Moms acting goofy, as always, in a school picture: Sara (my Mom) is on the left, Fran (Joan's Mom) is on the right. circa 1936

Our Mom's could really act the fools. As youngsters, Joan and I would get so embarrassed when our Mother's would loudly start laughing and carrying on in a public place. We would just look at each other, wishing we could get away with crawling under the table. They would laugh 'til they cried, ice tea coming out of their noses, and the more horrifyed we got, the funnier they thought it was. Oh goodness how we wish we could join in with them today.

Mother, Jack Crews, best man (Fran's brother), Paul and Fran Hanson.

Fran and Paul got married first, September 4, 1947. Mother, who had a beautiful soprano voice, sang at their wedding--I Love You Truly.

And almost exactly a year later, September 5, 1948, my parents, Sara and J.T. Rutherford, got married. Unfortuntately, Fran and Paul were in school and couldn't afford the gas to drive from their home in Dallas to Karnes City (and we think our economy is bad) but I'm sure the girls talked often and long.

Around Christmas time, 1948, Mother and Fran got together in Karnes City, both eager to share their good news. We understand the conversation went something like this:

I have some exciting news to tells you.
Well I have some exciting news to tell you.
You go first.
No, you go first.
Ok, well let's tell each other at the same time.
I'm pregnant!

Stay tuned.....

The Annual Baking of the Fruitcakes

2009-11-15T19:51:00.019-05:00

My Nana

I’ve been making fruitcakes for friends and family for Christmas for 35 years now. It is a huge undertaking but some of my friends would be lost without their fruitcake. My fruitcake is not the door-stopper, joke inducing kind of fruitcake. People who don’t like fruitcake love mine.

My Nana made fruitcakes almost all of her life and as she got up in years, I begged for her recipe. The problem was that she was of the old school—a pinch of this, a handful of that—and she never made them on the large scale that I do. I looked through cookbooks and tried several different recipes. I couldn’t believe how many there were! But they never tasted any where near as delicious as hers

At last I was able to persuade her to do some measuring as she made her delicious fruitcakes and I still have her handwritten recipe. The first difference I noticed was hers included a bit of molasses. The other was an abundance of brown paper. She cut up brown paper grocery bags to line each pan she used and she covered all the pans with a large sheet of brown paper. She also cooked them slowly, steaming them with a pan of water under the cakes. And even this conservative Southern Baptist small-town woman, marinated her fruit and nuts in brandy prior to baking and then wrapped each cake in cheese cloth soaked in brandy.

To my great delight, she lived to taste my first attempt and declare it as good as hers. I knew I had accomplished the great fruitcake victory!

Each year, the kids and grandkids come over for the baking of the fruitcakes. It is such fun. Here are some pictures from this year. And yes, I supervise a thorough hand-washing ceremony before anyone touches anything.

2009-11-05T21:33:00.006-05:00

In loving memory of J.T. Rutherford, my Daddy.
Born May 30, 1921; Died Nov. 6. 2006

Always a Daddy's girl. Odessa, TX 1951

What I learned in the last year (written 11/5/2007)

I learned that like so many other experiences in life, no one can describe the excruciating pain of death. It encompasses your whole being—mind, body and soul. It can suffocate you at times. It reduces you to feeling very child-like, just wanting to be held and comforted. And, when it’s your parents, you feel like your whole foundation has eroded from underneath you.

I learned that when I lost one parent, Mother, and immediately started taking care of the remaining parent, Daddy, I went into remote control. Feelings were put on the shelf for later. I had a multitude of tasks daily and never enough time to take care of all of them. Plus, I had promised Mother I would take care of Daddy and that, to me, meant taking care of not just his body, but his heart. So, grieving for Mother would just have to wait.

I learned that grief is very personal. No one can go through it for you or tell you how to get through it faster. I wanted someone to give me a road map so that I could stop my pain; begin to function again. It was only when I surrendered everything that I began to see a glimpse of light; that I could begin to breathe. I gave up any sense of a time table; I gave up any “process;” I gave up trying to control my emotions, or worse faking my emotions; I gave up an agenda (the house, the yard, the dirty clothes, etc.).

I learned that my children were a continued legacy of my parents. They had grown up a block from their beloved grandparents. So when one generation passed away, my children stepped up, far more than I thought they would, and honored their grandparents in their actions, decisions and taking care of me. And they remember things I don’t and vice versa so we pool our memories into a collage of beauty and tenderness.

I never gave up on my faith, on the One who had seen me through so many other tragedies in my life. At mid-year, I flew to CA to be with my closest friends—a place where I could be nurtured, loved, listened to, and accepted for who I was and where I was. My friend and I had grown up in each other’s homes so she too grieved for my parents. I found that my favorite author, Henri Nouwen, had written a book, “Turn Your Mourning into Dancing.” I bought it and read it on that sunny southern CA patio, journaling, praying, and just being. Throughout that time, I talked my heart out, almost literally, to my friends. After lots of hugs, tears, and introspection, the fog began to clear; the pain grew a bit less intense. We prayed together and grew closer in our common grief.

And then I realized that grief is more than loss of a loved one, its loss of an identity. I was a daughter—for all practical purposes, an only child. I was a caregiver, best friend, prayer partner. I was co-dependent on these two people who had raised me. I was part of a triangle—a wonderful, supportive, intuitively thoughtful three-some. And on Nov. 6, 2006, I became one and for a long time I struggled with who I was, who I had been and who I wanted to be. I think that’s a huge dimension which is ignored by the grieving.

And, so as I approach the first anniversary of Daddy’s death, I am filled with sadness of what I used to have, who I used to be. I long to be called “my gal” by Daddy or “sweet girl” by my Mother. I long to have those enveloping, long hugs that said I love you no matter what.

And yet, I now know, I am becoming a new me. I’ve taken some of the old me, added what I’ve learned as a caregiver, and am re-directing my life into a new me. I’ll be ready for all of that on Nov. 7, 2007. Today, I’m just Daddy’s little girl, wishing for one more tender touch.

Summer Project: The Building of a Playhouse, Part 2

2009-10-11T21:18:00.040-04:00

After we unwrapped our package of pieces, I burst into hysterics. "Easy to Assemble" kept coming to mind as we laid out piece, after piece, after piece...

But, we weren't intimidated. We could do this! And so we began. We quickly decided that the hex screws provided just wouldn't work efficiently so it was off to the hardware store for phillips-head screws and a phillips-head drill bit. Great decision!

Dylan makes himself at home and all our hard work was well worth it. Now I can look forward to enjoying my grandsons enjoy their new playhouse just like their Mother and uncle did several years ago.

Summer Project: The Building of a Playhouse, Part 1

2009-10-06T17:13:00.063-04:00

One of the reasons I fell in love with my home 34 years ago, is that it has a large, fenced in backyard. My two young children and their friends loved creating their own magical world back there and I knew they were safe.

They had a swingset and miscellaneous toys but their backyard playground was not complete without a playhouse. They wanted a treehouse but their father was afraid of heights so they had to settle for a homemade playhouse 2 feet off the ground. Even then, I was the one who got on the roof to put the shingles on. ;-}

It was a huge hit with the playmates. One year we even had a birthday party in that tiny house!

But alas, the termites took up residence so it had to be demolished and taken away right when I started having grandchildren.

So, I decided that with Colin 4 and Dylan 1, this was the summer to build them a playhouse. I knew I couldn't do it alone, so I asked Lori, who was about to visit, to help me. She was eager to help (even though she had already comitted to helping me make a quilt of Daddy's ties) but once again had no clue what she was offering to help with.

I researched various possibilities on line and decided on a cedar version. It would come in pieces but "easy to assemble."

Lori and I defined the area where it would go and realized it would have to be leveled. So, I went to a gravel place and purchased many bags of pea-size gravel to be spread in the designated square. Uncle Charles was drafted to carry the 70 pound bags to the back yard.

At last, the big day arrived and the enormous truck (large enough to move an entire household of furniture) arrived. We watched as rather small package was unloaded into the driveway and eagerly opened it to see what we had in store.

To be continued.

Alzheimer's Foundation quilt show

2009-10-05T12:59:00.035-04:00

On September 24th I attended the Alzheimer's Foundation quilt show in Chicago. A group of friends from the Alz. message board had been planning this reunion for several months.

My message board friends: Nancy (nsw), me, Joyce & Eileen (back row); Lori, Deb (mundee and Jackie (front row)

We gathered the night before, some meeting for the first time, to get to know each other in person and talk about our journey through Alzheimer's as caregivers. We laughed and teared up and had our respect for one another reinforced ten-fold. Joyce's daugher and SIL, Theresa and Mike, met us at the hotel with their large van and chauferred most of us to the quilt show. (What a stress-free gift!)

Here's Daddy's square. And me holding it up with a sea of quilts behind me.

The love and attention put into each and everyone of those quilts was a sight to behold. Over and over again you saw how a community of family and friends gathered around each and everyone of the loved ones affected by this horrible disease. You saw how they gradually turned from a vibrant person to one whose brain had devoured their being.

It was a testimony to the loved ones and the families.

On the way to the airport, my daughter asked me, "Do you think Granddaddy would have wanted his picture shown in association with Alzheimer's?"

I've thought about that a lot and here's what I've come up with. Daddy was a man of causes. He contributed all manner of resources: money, time, notes & letters. If this quilt show contributes any awareness of the need to fund research on Alzheimer's, I think he would be pleased.

Also, those quilts weren't just about the loved ones but about us caregivers. After his death, I was going through thousands of pieces of papers and came across a receipt for a contribution he had sent to the Alz. Assn. (long before his diagnosis). There were various categories to choose from as to how you wanted your money designated. He choose "Caregiver support." I think that says it all.

2009-10-04T14:40:00.013-04:00

No matter how many toys a child has, (and trust me Dylan has plenty!) it's always more fun to get into (literally) the pots and pans.

just like his Mother.

A Blanket of Memories

2009-08-25T12:45:00.023-04:00

I had this idea. After allowing my son and best friend to go through and choose several of Daddy's ties, I still had a lot of beautiful ties. Mother had carefully choosen each and every one of them, except the Marine Corp ties that were gifts, and the older they got, the more expensive and works of art the ties became.

So out of no where, never having seen one, I thought, wouldn't it be a great idea to make a quilt out of Daddy's ties. But, where to begin. My friend, Lori was going to be visiting this summer and she had beginners knowledge of quilting and the necessary portable sewing machine. So I sent her some links of examples and asked her if she was game to give it a try. Sure, she said. She had no idea what she was setting herself up to do!

First we had to come up with a design. We laid out one starburst of ties and liked it. But, the quilt was going to be king-size so we decided on 4 starbursts of ties. I laid them out on my current bedspread and began to figure out exactly which ties and in what order. Daddy loved burgundy and Mother loved blue so I had a natural blend of color. Then I discovered that Daddy had quite a few Marine Corp ties, some burgundy, some navy so I decided to put a Marine Corp tie in each of the starbursts, all in the same position of the starburst, pointing to the windows. We would use circles of silk fabric in the middle of the starbursts, two of burgandy and two of navy to match the Marine Corp ties.

Next, I decided that each starburst should be framed in burgundy. Then, what to do with the tails of the ties we had used. A quarter starburst was made for each bottom corner of the bed.

I looked at several off-white fabrics for the backing but just couldn't decide. Finally I saw some navy checked material that looked like material you would make a man's sport shirt out of and matched with khaki, I had my backing.

Now mind you, with each design I created, Lori would roll her eyes, sigh a lot until she finally agreed to implement my suggestions. And work, my goodness, she spent dozens of hours in my basement making this happen. I did a lot of the basting and now I will do the actual quilting but thanks to her, I now have a gigantic piece of my parents' history to marvel out and sleep peacefully underneath.

Happy First Birthday Dylan!

2009-08-17T22:39:00.006-04:00

A Special Lady

2009-08-14T23:23:00.015-04:00

Eunice Kennedy Shriver, who died Tuesday at the age of 88, was remembered today by her family and friends. I was touched by the obvious love, respect and adoration of her family but also deeply touched by the crowd of Special Olympians who gathered to celebrate and honor her life.

She will be remembered more for her role as the founder of Special Olympics than her luck of birth into the Kennedy family. She could have simply enjoyed a life of lazy luxury, but instead she saw a need and set about to do something about it.

I met Mrs. Shriver in 1960, when she visited the facility my mentally challenged brother was living in at the time. He was only 6 very young years old. I don't remember her car or her staff, though I assume she was well taken care of. I do remember her sitting my brother, known as Pistol as my Daddy knicknamed him, on her lap and making him feel very special.

Pistol is now 56 and I have lost count of his medals! He earns them with hard work and wears them proudly. He, like millions of others who are mentally challenged, can compete and excel in his physical abilities even while he struggles to function mentally. Thank you Mrs. Shriver for helping to make that possible.

Another reason I was deeply touched by today's service for Mrs. Shriver is that she leaves behind a husband with Alzheimer's, just as my Mother did. One wonders how much he understands but you saw glimpses of him knowing what was going on when he waved goodbye to the back of the hearse after the family placed the casket inside.

This is such a sweet picture of one of his grandchildren gently loving him.

And, here is a great-grandson, Colin, making his great-granddaddy, my Daddy, smile.

Children are God's gift to us, regardless of the challenges. Mrs. Shriver knew that.

P.S. Two days after I wrote this Pistol called to tell me he had won 4 more medals. This time in swimming! Yea Pistol!

Thank you Jesus!

2009-08-10T11:43:00.008-04:00

While Dylan (almost 1 yr.) was peacefully taking his morning nap Sat. morning (his room is the window to the left of this last picture), a neighbor's tree fell on the house. It was infested with bees and was completely hollow. You can see from the second picture just how big the base of it is. We are thankful that the whole tree didn't fall. We are thankful that it didn't smash the corner of the house, thus killing Dylan. We are thankful that the neighbors have been very responsive. We are thankful that a tree guy came in the next day and cleaned it all up. We are so very, very thankful!!

Stop and smell the roses

2009-08-07T14:19:00.010-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3a5vN4tUl4

Stop and smell the roses
Hey Mister
Where you going in such a hurry?
Don't you think it's time you realized
There's a whole lot more to life than work and worry
The sweetest things in life are free
And they're right before your eyes.

You got to Stop and Smell the Roses
You've got to count your many blessings everyday.
You're gonna find your way to heaven is a rough and rocky road
If you don't Stop and Smell the Roses along the way.

Did you ever take a walk through the forest
Stop and dream a while among the trees
Well you can look up through the leaves right straight to heaven.
You can almost hear the voice of God
In each and every breeze.

This is one of my all time favorite songs. I have been extremely busy lately with multiple projects and responsibilities. My head is spinning! As I was running out the door to yet another appointment, this beautiful yellow butterfly was flitting about my impatiens. I stopped to take a few pictures with my cell phone, knowing I would be a tad late for my appointment, but savoring the beauty, the moment, God's creative majesty.

First basket of produce from our garden

2009-07-13T10:37:00.005-04:00

Another proud gardener:

Proud gardener

2009-07-13T10:17:00.010-04:00

We started with these tiny kernels of corn:

And now we have this. Colin is so very proud!

We're eagerly anticipating our first meal of home-grown corn.

Transformation

2009-07-11T12:57:00.029-04:00

The beds are prepared and waiting....

The impatienc are overflowing my trunk....

The "gardeners" go to work....

And, now the flowers are in full bloom!

Keep praying for Alice

2009-06-26T15:48:00.011-04:00

Alice traveled to M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston this week. (See post dated 3/16/09 to learn more about Alice.) It was time for tests to determine the status of her tumors. The good news is that the tumors have shrunk some, but, not enough for surgery.

So, she returns to Kerrville for 6 more infusions of chemo. She'll have an infusion every 3 weeks, with a trip back to M.D. Anderson after the first 3. That means the earliest surgery could take place would be after the first of the year.

The wonderful news is that the experts are amazed at her longevity and spirit. On Wed., after waiting 3 hours to see the doctor, she was just so excited to finally get in she beamed with happiness. The assistant gave her a hug and told her she had made her day with her cheerfulness.

So, please continue to pray for Alice, the walking miracle. Pray that God's healing touch will be upon her and that He will continue to bless her with His strength, courage, faith, peace and joy.

Party pics

2009-06-19T14:31:00.043-04:00

My best friend, Hope flew in from Pasadena, CA for the party!

Colin, in the background, is itching to stick his fingers in the cake.

My son, Charles, was the bartender.

Daughter, Sara, cutting the cake (in background) while Penny smiles.

This is how I looked when I first came in--very happy!

And lots of long-time good friends.

Happy Birthday to ME!

2009-06-16T13:05:00.027-04:00

My wonderful, thoughtful, creative, incredibly organized daughter gave me a surprise birthday party last Saturday for my big 60.

Here's the specially designed invitation. She scoured pictures for months, finding me at 5, 10, 15....years of age, finishing with a picture of me and my angel boys at 12.

It was so wonderful to see some of my dearest friends. And those long distance friends who couldn't make it, were able to send birthday greetings and pictures to be included in THE most beautiful album I have ever seen.

It was held in the home I grew up in, where my daughter and my angel boys are living now and where I have celebrated everything from birthdays, anniversaries, wedding receptions and lots of church youth group gatherings. The room is mostly unchanged from when my parents lived there so it is full of wonderful memorabilia and made me feel like my parents were so much a part of the party.

The cake, see below, was covered with more pictures of me at all ages with all the people I love. (Stay tuned for pictures of the actual event.)

Also, assisting in this surprise was my son (who bartended) and best friend, Hope (who flew in from CA for the event and to spend a few days with me). Friends helped with all the arrangements of overnight guests, guest lists, parking, childcare and any other way they could help. I felt loved and celebrated which is exactly the way everyone should feel on their birthday.

Since today is my actual birthday, family and a few very close friends are gathering at our favorite Tex-Mex restaurant for yet another celebration but this time we're leaving the work to the service industry. ;-}

It is so wonderful to have family and friends who join in the good and the bad times...but it's the most fun when we celebrate life together!

Follow-up with the funeral home

2009-06-10T09:58:00.008-04:00

I met Monday with my contact at the funeral home, Gordan, to tell him what had happened with my friends Al & Rae and their pushy salesman. We spent an hour and a half talking, with me learning the ways of the funeral home business and him learning how it is paramount to be ultra-sensitive to the family dealing with the issue of their mortality.

This weekend, Gordon and I are going over to visit with Al (Rae will be out of town seeing 2 great-grandsons for the first time) and answer his questions and put his mind at ease. There will be no signing, no pressure. Then when Al is ready to move forward, someone else (not the salesman) will return for the signature with me present, of course. This is a huge improvement over the previous scenario.

Then I had a long telephone conversation with the owner of the funeral home, Barry. First of all he was shocked at the salesman's behavior but totally believed me. Second, this salesman is leaving the funeral home to become a nurse (God help us all!!) so they are hiring a new person. Third, they want me to come in and train not only the new salesman but the entire staff of the funeral home, using my pastoral skills training and fourth....are you ready for this?...when I complete my year as chair of Deacons (next Oct.), Barry and I are going to talk about me regularly doing volunteer work with them including going out with the new salesman on occasion. (I don't want paid work because I want my independence and because this type of work is a calling not a profession.)

My, my God has mysterious ways in which He leads us. I knew I wanted to contribute more of my time to either the local hospital or Hospice after Oct. Never, ever would I have dreamed of volunteering with a funeral home! And yet, God clearly showed me the need, equiped me, put me in the right place at the right time, opened my ears to hear him and gave me an obedient spirit. And the best part, I am actually very excited about this prospect which confirms that it is of God.

Gifted, Called, Equiped, Guided

2009-06-05T21:13:00.018-04:00

How in the world can you do that? Isn't it depressing?

That's what I hear when folks find out what I'm up to these days. God gave me the gifts to be a pastoral care counselor and then I sought the training. Between the gifts, the training and, most importantly the calling, I have a peace and joy of being used as God's instrument.

I am Chair of the Deacons this year. In my role, I hear of all sorts of needs and it's my job to communicate the needs to the team leads. Some of the teams we have are: Casserole, Handyman, Hospital Visitation, Homebound and Elderly, Emergency Childcare, Transportation, Prayer and Encouragement and more, 11 in all. I am co-chair of the Grief and Bereavement Team which covers a whole host of possibilities.

This week I have been heavily involved with an older couple, the husband, Al (80), has terminal cancer. The wife, Rae (89), has always been emotionally fragile and this is really sending her over the edge. [These pictures were taken at our Valentine's Banquet.] Monday I was there when a representative from the funeral home came to sell them a plan. (More on that below.)

While there, I found out that someone was taking Al to see his oncologist where he would more than likely be told (and he was) that they had done all they could do and it was time for hospice. He is at perfect peace about this but Rae is not handling it so well. Al did not want Rae to go with him to the dr. so I suggested that she and I go get a pedicure and get the report when we returned. God takes care of all sorts of situations and in this case, through Him, I was able to convince her that she really needed a break and he could concentrate much better. Mission accomplished and 20 beautiful toes later.

This afternoon and evening I was there during the hospice information session and intake. Again, I was able to distract Rae part of the time and keep her calm. (All you have to do with older folks is comment on a picture and get them to tell you about it. ;-} ) The hospice person didn't leave until 7:45p, way past their supper time, so I stayed and scrambled some eggs and cheese and fixed them some toast--something easy to digest but full of protein.

Next Monday I'm meeting with my contact at the same funeral home that the salesman came from, to tell him how awful the salesman was when he met with them. The details aren't important but for a solid hour he droned on and on about this book they needed to fill out (family, memories, favorite color (?), and more) and then started telling them a whole host of details about funeral planning, picking out a casket from picutres, the color of the lining, emblems on the side, and on and on he went and wouldn't stop even though they were clearly overwhelmed and anxious. THEN, he figured up a price for the two of them, well over $20,000, and wanted them to sign right then. I physically placed myself between the salesman and Al, put my hand up, like you would do to a child, and said, please stop. They are not going to sign anything today; we will let you know if and when they are interested. Boy he sure didn't like that and out the door I ushered him.

And, this is one of the best funeral homes around, the same one I used for my parents. I know the man who owns it and I think he would be horrified at this man's actions. So, I'm now taking on the funeral home and strongly suggesting that they have an intensive course on sensitivity and listening skills! Plus, our church keeps them in business so if they offend one customer, they endanger a whole host of people finding out ('cause I'd be sure to spread the word!) and loosing a whole lot of business.

But enough of the details of my week. It has been a humbling, gratifying, prayerful week. That God would call me to walk with someone through the valley of the shadow of death; that He would equip me and strengthen me; that He would give me wisdom and even creativity; and that He would give me joy in the intimate relationships I am developing with these two people of faith is almost overwhelming. My cup runneth over.

Thanks for listening to what's on my heart.

Happy Birthday Daddy

2009-05-29T23:41:00.054-04:00

Today is my Daddy's birthday. He would have been 88 yrs. old. It's been about 2.5 yrs. since he left this earth to join Mother, the love of his life for 56 years. I love this picture of him. He was a Texan through and through. He participated in lots of parades and and served many a plate of bar-b-que with the Odessa Chuck Wagon Gang (http://www.ocwg.org/). I still have that shirt.

Daddy, J.T. Rutherford, was born in Hot Springs, AR in 1921. In his youth, his family moved to Odessa, TX where he grew up. He joined the Marine Corp to fight in WWII, and came home a war hero.

He married Sara Jane Armstrong, my Mother, in 1948 and I was born 9 months and 11 days later. Surprise! At the same time he ran and was elected to the Texas legislature in addition to being state commander of chief of the VFW, along with going to Baylor Law School. He came from poverty and earned everything with hard work. He loved government and believed that the people’s voice needed to be heard. He had no large financial backing but instead won his campaigns by lots of shoe leather and cups of coffee, the old fashioned way.

When I was five, he was elected to the U.S. Congress from his beloved West Texas so we moved to the Washington, DC area. It was a tough transition for the family. We left behind our entire support system and had no money. That meant one car, which Daddy took to the "Hill" everyday, no washing machine or dryer and no money for sitters so that Mother could join Daddy for some of the new and wonderful opportunities. It was very hard times.

But he believed in what he was elected to do and fought hard for his district. He also got to know and become close friends with some of his heros in politics, like Sam Rayburn, long time Speaker of the House from TX, and former Pres. Harry Truman, shown in this picture enjoying a good laugh.

It was in his district of West Texas that the ticket of Kennedy-Johnson made their first official campaign stop, specifically El Paso, TX. Daddy said that the supposed feud between Kennedy and Johnson was a myth and that actually the two greatly respected each other even while disagreeing.

Pres. Kennedy was especially pleased when, as the first Chairman of the National Parks and Services, Daddy shepherded the legislation to create the Cape Cod National Seashore and preserve vasts amount of land for generations to come.

My parents were madly in love all 56 years of their marriage. He was the most generous human being I have ever known, doing many, many good deeds that we didn’t know anything about until I cleaned out his office. He was firm and old-fashioned but a strong man of integrity. He believed in God, his country and his family and was willing to lay down his life for any or all of them.

He adored his two grandchildren, Sara and Charles, and was fortunate to share the first 21 months of his great-grandson's life, Colin, whom he nicknamed “Little Buddy.” He and Colin shared many tender moments. Here they are on Daddy's 84th birthday.

He was a man who was friends with Presidents and custodians and he treated them all the same. I had great respect for the way he lived his life but I was in awe watching him accept the disease of Alzheimer's and relinquish everything he had worked for to me. The trust he placed in me in the last years of his life was a testimony to the strong, enduring relationship we shared.

I know that he is enjoying watching his great-grandsons growing and thriving in my childhood home. I miss you Daddy but I carry you in my heart.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/11/10/AR2006111001675.html

A day with Nana at the fair

2009-05-25T16:07:00.031-04:00

Colin has been wanting to have a "Nana Day" for a while now. That means an overnight without his brother. He loves his brother, Dylan, and is very good with him but it used to be just the two of us for his first 3.5 yrs. and he longed for a return to my undivided attention.

We started Sunday night with popcorn and a movie he had picked out at church. Then a long, loud bath (the bath is next to Dylan's bedroom so normally he has to be quiet) with those little capsules that turn into marvelous shapes in the water. He asked for a lotion massage, which I used to give him as a baby and he doesn't get at home, followed by stories. At last we settle into my bed to go to sleep but he decides he wants to sleep like he sometimes used to do as a baby--on top of me, only now he's over 30 lbs. But go to sleep he did, with me rubbing his back.

I had searched for something special to do today and found just the thing--a local fair. He wore his bright yellow and blue soccer shirt from County Clare Ireland (thank you Lori) and a hat from his greatgranddaddy.

Thank goodness we got there when they opened at 10a because by the time we left at 1:30p it was crowded and hot and humid. Colin rode everything he qualified for and together we rode the ferris wheel. Of course we had to have more popcorn, this time caramel. He threw darts at balloons and the guy felt sorry for him missing so he got to pick out a surprise--a black spiderman, which I'm sure he will be sleeping with tonight.

Here he is riding the merry-go-round, holding his newly won spiderman close.

He's driving very aggressively here. I hope that's not a sign of the future!

The last thing to do was to climb through an obstacle course and end up getting to slide down a long slide!

What a fun day! Can you tell I love being a Nana?

My Bampa's birthday

2009-05-17T12:32:00.096-04:00

My Bampa and me

I have been thinking a lot about my Bampa lately and today is his birthday, May 17, 1894. He was born, Horace Burleson Armstrong, in Buda, TX, a still small town just south of Austin. His mother died when he was 2 yrs. old and his father remarried a woman who hated children. He would talk about how when he was still very little and have accidents in his bed, she would wrap him up in that sheet and beat him. [Long before child protective services.]

So, at the young age of 12, he left home for the big, bustling city of San Antonio where he was able to find work of all sorts. One of his favorite jobs was teaching people how to drive those new fandangled automobiles, after self-teaching himself. By the age of 14, he had saved up enough money to bring his two sisters to come live with him in a boarding house.

After serving in WWI, he met and married my grandmother ( by selling her Daddy a car), who came from a large German family in Karnes City, 54 south of San Antonio. Her Daddy, Bumbo, owned a large amount of land and gave each of his children large parcels to farm. For awhile Bampa moved the family to Tampico, Mexico where he worked for Gulf Oil Co., but my Grandmother was so homesick for her family that they returned to the farm.

He became a dairy farmer, getting up in the dark of night to deliver milk throughout the countryside. Mother remembers that he always had half-pint bottles for the small Mexican children who would follow the truck begging for milk.

During WWII, he served on the local selective service board, an unpopular task. It was this board that decided who in the community would be signed up to go to war. On one particular occasion, he and the board tapped a particular young man from a Mexican family. The family fought it, as they said they needed him home to help provide for the family but the board stood firm. After several nights of being awakened by gun shots at his home, Bampa saddled up, rode over to the family's house, with his gun loaded and ready and announced, "If it's killing you're after, let's get to it but leave my family alone!" The family backed down and there were no more pot shots at the house.

I spent all my summers with my grandparents. I loved it. One of my favorite memories is when I was about 7 or 8 yrs. Bampa woke me up about 5a, boosted me up on top of a fresh-picked wagon load of cotton, with a red straw hat perched on my head, and we rode into town to the cotton gin with me feeling like I was on top of the world. We were on top of my world!

He also taught me to play checkers and then bragged to everyone that I beat him most of the time, even though he wasn't letting me win. And I loved riding with him in his red pickup. We would go into town and he'd buy me a coke, you know one of those little mini-bottles. He got such a kick out of the fact that as a toddler I knew the right way to drink out of a bottle, top lip down instead of wrapped around the opening. But then he thought just about anything I did was something special.

Now we've come full circle and I'm a Nana and at least for a little while longer, my grandboys think just about anything I do is special. ;-}

Last year, I visited Karnes City for the first time in many, many years as there is no family living there anymore. Here I am, standing in the middle of MY cornfield, land I inherited from my parents, which belonged to Bampa. I am so proud to carry on the tradition of owning farm land in TX.

And I visited the home place, that I thought was so enormous as a child but is actually a very small stone house. It was built in the same spot where a truly large family compound of a home existed before it burned to the ground in 1936. And I looked quietly a the large oak tree just outside the front door, facing the main highway, where my grandfather, at the young age of 65, put a gun to his head in a place where he would be sure to be found.

I visited my grandparents graves, a deserted graveyard that has sadly been neglected because there are no more family members left to care for it. I tenderly pulled away the worst of the weeds from their graves.

He suffered from depression, severe diabetes and bouts of drinking (which I never, ever saw) and after we had all been there for a visit, he got up one morning, had breakfast with my grandmother's sister and husband, went to town for a haircut, arranged all of his business papers neatly on the desk and took his life. What's really strange, is that I vividly remember the last time I waved goodbye to him and feeling so sad. I was only 10 yrs. old, sitting on his bed, in front of a window, waving as his red pick up drove out of sight.

The worm family

2009-05-09T21:03:00.019-04:00

Gardening with a 4-yr. old requires a whole new way of looking at life in general. The small things are sometimes the most important.

We've had rain for several weeks almost non-stop so we are slow to begin our planting. We're planting a family/neighbor garden in the plot that my Daddy grew the very best tomatoes I've ever tasted, along with squash, cukes, peppers and whatever else struck his fancy. The garden has been badly neglected since he died in 2006 but this year I decided it was time to clear it out and use it.

There are 4 raised beds, approximately 3'x25' so there's lots of room for experimenting. The whole family is learning together and Colin has been so excited about planting the seeds that Nana bought. He's been carrying around the bag for days asking when we are going to plant.

Today it finally cleared off and Colin and I began. First we got all of our plants out to the garden and then our tools. I found a hole-digger (have no idea the correct term) amongst Daddy's tools and a spade and we started digging holes. Immediately Colin spotted a worm (a good sign for well airated soil).

"Take a picture of it Nana. It's willy coot." I showed him the picture. "No, Nana, I can't see it. Take a bigger picture."

Ok, Colin, now it's time to plant some of our plants. "No, Nana, we have to make a family of worms! We need a Mommy, Daddy, Colin and Dylan." I figured 3 more worms would be quick and easy to satisfy him. So we gathered our now 4 worms in a little puddle of water.

Now, Colin, let's plant our plants. "No, Nana, we have to finish our family." We have Colin, everyone is there. "No, Nana, we have to have a Nana worm and an Uncle Charles worm!" For some reason we had a hard time finding the required extra worms but at last we did. Success; we're finished, right? Wrong. "Nana, the worms are going to die if they don't have a house of dirt." So we take an empty plant pot, put some large leaves in the bottom, lots of dirt and Colin carefully and lovingly places the worms in their new home.

Now can we plant some of our plant's Colin? "Sure Nana." So in about 1 1/2 hours, we managed to get 5 plants in the ground. His job was to put the fertilizer in the hole. I hope you can't kill plants with too much fertilizer!

By now, he's a bit bored and wants to go play on the neighbor's swing set.

My friend Bonnie

2009-05-08T19:28:00.049-04:00

Bonnie is another close friend of mine who I met on the Alzheimer's message board. Those on the board knew her as Mama's Friend. We literally walked through the valley of the shadow of death together as my dear Daddy died Nov. 6, 2006 and her sweet Mama died Dec. 8, 2006. We walked the valley together, keeping close company with Jesus as He comforted and guided us through those painful days.

We finally got to meet April of 2008 in San Antonio, where she lives, and spent a fabulous evening on the Riverwalk. We couldn't stop talking and all of it was centered on the joy our faith brings us no matter what is going on in our lives.

Bonnie grew up in Mexico, with parents who were full-time missionaries. Bob and Beverly Teachout, came to Mexico as newlyweds in 1955. Bonnie says, "Mom used to stand under a mango tree ( the shadiest trees in the tropics) and play "Jesus Loves Me" on an accordian, and many other songs until children gathered. Once she had a crowd, she would tell them who Jesus was with flannel graph stories. She and Daddy would go back again and again- the mothers and children would be waiting in anticipation under the tree the next week! Then Dad would announce a movie after the stories the next week- and the whole family would come. That's how the churches got started. At the end I believe there were 23 with 3-4 missions each. But it was never about counting people. It was about these sweet people finding Christ."

At the age of 17, Bonnie was called to be a missionary but resisted that call in favor of marriage and children but it was always in the background of everything she did. Fast forward to November of 2008. Bonnie was working in the banking industry and at this particular job for over 10 years. She received the news that because of job cuts, she would be "let go." After the shock wore off, she realized she had indeed been "let go" alright, she had been given the freedom to reconsider her calling as a teenager.

So, after much prayer and many discussions with her spiritual mentors, Bonnie leaves the end of May for the mission field in the mountains of Chiapas, Mexico, the southern most state of Mexico- http://www.travelchiapas.com/map/map-2.php. Her passion is in women's ministry but she goes expectantly, knowing God will use her in many ways.

She will be living in an apartment (not to be confused with our version of an apt.) that is bare bones and she is taking only a very few of personal needs, having sold everything else to raise the money for her support in Mexico. She leaves behind her children and grandchildren and as a Nana too, I can't imagine the pain of that separation. Yet she goes obidiently, having no idea what lies ahead but trusting in her Lord who called her and who will equip her and provide for her daily.

Please join me in praying for Bonnie as she starts her new life. And, if you feel so led, she has joined a missions sending organization called Abundant Hope International as the method where people can contribute to her daily living needs. (email: financials@abundanthopeinternational.org)

She'll be sending me updates, which I will post here. Our prayers go with you Bonnie, a good and faithful servant.

My therapy

2009-05-01T21:25:00.008-04:00

This is Dylan, age 8.5 months, my joy and my therapy. I get to keep him every Thursday and Friday. Today as I struggled with the heartbreak of a fractured friendship, Dylan's smiles, hugs and dependence was my therapy.

I can't even imagine life without my two grandbabies. They add perspective, total love and devotion, not to mention a wonderful distraction.

Only time will heal this broken relationship.

The Easter Story according to Colin

2009-04-18T10:20:00.006-04:00

On the way to church last Sunday morning I asked Colin to tell me the Easter story.

Big sigh, as though "I can't believe she doesn't know this story," and then he tells me.

Well, Nana, there were these bad guys who were mean to Jesus. They put a rope around his head and another one around his feet. They put thorns on his head and they nailed him to a cross and kilt him. Then they put large stones around him.

Oh no, I say.

But Nana!! it's ok cause He's ALIVE!! He's my friend!

Cherry Blossom season

2009-04-04T15:33:00.016-04:00

The angels beside the Tidal Basin.

Sara and Colin in the midst of the blossoms.

Dylan

Sunset at the Tidal Basin, with the Jefferson Memorial

in the background.

Me and my new roommate Janice. (More on Janice later but

definitely a Godsequence that we found each other.)

Mother's

2009-03-31T12:10:00.012-04:00

Mother holding me at 2 weeks old

It's not Mother's Day yet. It's not even my Mother's birthday. But lately I've been missing my Mother a lot. She died almost 4.5 years ago so why the profound loss as though it was 4.5 minutes ago?

Lots of reasons. One of my goals has been to clear more of the clutter from my house. It was depriving me of much needed space for my #1 priority--my grandson's; it was producing lots of guilt for not having done it; and it was just always hanging over me. So in the process of going through mine and my parent's stuff, I had lots of wonderful memories come flooding back.

Amongst my great finds, stuck in a random book, I found a poem my Mother had written after the death of her Mother. She titled it simply:

Mama

Grief is like a wave
that washes over you.
It strangles and it crushes
and leaves you feeling blue.

You pick yourself up
and struggle on, wondering all the while
will the ache and emptiness you feel
ever be totally gone?

When will the memories be dear ones?
To cherish for as long as you live
When you can think with a smile or a chuckle
for the good things her life still gives.

I'm also missing Mother's support. I desperately need to have a healthier life style and loose weight (more on that in a future post). As I was brainstorming yesterday with a friend, how I was successful in doing this in the past, I realized that my Mother was a huge factor. I was using the Weight Watcher program and every time I weighed in, I would report back to Mother and no matter what the report she praised my efforts. And, everytime she saw me, which was often, she would declare I looked "thinner every time I see you." I lost 40 lbs. in 1999, 25 in time for my 50th birthday and she insisted on taking me out to buy me a new "birthday suit" to show off my successful weight loss.

A dear friend, Imogene, from my church died suddenly last week from a brain aneurism. I visited with her daughter, Jean, for a long time last night at the funeral home. This afternoon is the funeral. Jean and her Mother were very close too so I felt her pain and relived mine.

The same friend I was brain storming about weight loss with yesterday, is remembering her Mother's birthday today, having lost her a year ago. Another friend is finding treasures of her Mother as she clears out her house in the process of moving. Another friend is caring for her Mother, who has Alzheimer's, in her home while having her own health issues. Yet another friend has both parents on Hospice, has her own major health issues, and yet is treasuring each day with them. On and on the list goes.

Our Mother's are God's gift to us. Through them we learn strength in the face of crisis; unconditional love when we make mistakes; and if we're lucky, the joy of a very special friendship. Thank you God for the precious gift of my Mother.

Getting to know Alice

2009-03-16T19:24:00.057-04:00

I first got to know my friend Alice on the Alzheimer's message board back in 2005 when we were both caring for a parent with Alzheimer's. We bonded immediately, primarily because we share a strong faith that no matter what is going on in our lives, God is by our side, guiding and directing; supporting us; and sending His earthly angels to care for us.

Secondly we are both cancer survivors from multiple occasions so we spoke the same language. So, in spite of life's challenges and heartaches (both of us having since lost our parents), we knew that our faith would get us through the current crisis.

Alice had to place her dear, sweet Mama in a nursing home when she went through chemo in 2005 and just didn't have the physical strength to care for her. It was during that time that we began to take our relationship a step closer with phone calls and emails. I told her I would set my cell phone alarm to play Amazing Grace at noon, my time, everyday and that I would stop and pray for her at that time. She found great comfort in that knowledge and it brought us even closer together.

Last year, spring of 2008, I decided it was past time for Alice and I to meet in person so I included a day-long visit with her in my trip to Texas. This picture was taken at the Wildseed Farms, where we could enjoy our mutual love of flowers and butterflies! We had a grand day and promised to keep in touch, which we did.

After much arm twisting and insistance, Alice came to visit. I had continued to pray for her daily and by now I had introduced my grandson to the idea that when Nana's phone played that certain song, we would stop whatever we were doing and pray for Alice. Here's a picture Alice took while she was visiting of just such an occassion. We had walked down to the nearby creek and while Colin threw stones in the creek, Alice marveled at the fall colors.

We had a great time during her visit. We did some sightseeing and playing with grandchildren. We enjoyed long talks and she grew to love and be loved by my church family. Here she is in the midst of the Bishop's Garden at the Washington National Cathedral, one of our favorite places.

Now Alice has an uphill fight against cancer again. After consultation at M.D. Anderson, it has been decided that she will begin chemo, again, on Tues., March 24, to try and shrink her numerous tumors. After each round, she will be reevaluated at M.D. Anderson with the anticipation of surgery this summer.

Please join me in praying for Alice, a woman of strong faith, a celebrator of life, a wonderful friend and a very special lady.

Advisory council

2009-03-07T11:52:00.006-05:00

A friend of mine recently had a dilemma. Decisions are frequently difficult, especially when you live alone and have no one to brainstorm with. So instead of fretting about it she emailed her "advisory council" as I have nicknamed us. There are 5 of us (including her) from around the country so she knew she could get a variety of suggestions.

She presented the background, the dilemma and asked our advice. Within 24 hrs. she heard from all of us, who, not surprisingly, pretty much gave her the same advice but in different words, and from that she gained much--peace as to her decision; support; and hopefully a little less feeling alone.

But, on her part it took courage to be vulnerable and trust in us to be there for her and accept whatever decision she made.

God did not stop with the creation of Adam. He went on to create Eve and from there we have the human race. Seems pretty clear to me that He intends us to create all sorts of "advisory councils." I know I couldn't function without mine and I'm so glad my friend realized the value of hers.

Snowy day

2009-03-02T19:33:00.012-05:00

We did indeed get a beautiful snowfall. To some, it was a very modest snow, but to my TX and CA friends, it was significant.

It snowed all night and a bit today, creating a fairy land all around me. As for me, I stayed safe, sound and warm inside my house, enjoying the magnificence of God's creation and in the peace and quiet of the day.

2009-03-01T11:12:00.008-05:00

The Washington, DC area is expecting significant snowfall tonight. That means grocery stores are crowded and hardware stores are full of last minute shovel and salt shoppers.

I on the other hand am looking forward to it. Having grown up in this area, I still remember the excitement of a snow day off from school. They would never make the school closing announcement the night before. I had to set my alarm for 0-dark-thirty and wait in eager anticipation for the list to be read.

But it was worth it when I finally heard "Arlington County public schools will be closed today." Yippee! Turn the radio off, roll over and enjoy some sweet slumber.

I remember one time during high school (that would be mid-60's) that school was cancelled for a whole week. Daddy, the ever prepared and resourceful Marine, never let snow keep him in. He managed to stock up on hot dogs, chips, drinks, marshmallows and lots of other snacks because my basement was the youth HQ. Kids would walk to my house, plop in front of the fireplace, and then plot our next sledding adventure, only to repeat the process only this time we came back to the best smelling hot dogs and hot chocolate and cookies or brownies, courtesy of Mother, I've ever smelled!

So, I look forward to the world (well, at least my part of the world) standing still for a day, while the snow plows do their job. I will sit by the fire and enjoy the beauty of a fresh fallen snow and reminisce. Then I will get my grand kids over here (they live 3 houses away!!!) and cook hot dogs and drink hot chocolate together.

Oh wait! I don't have any hot dogs!! Gotta go join the crazy shoppers to get my hot dogs!

Celebrating Pistol

2009-02-28T09:59:00.016-05:00

My brother, Charles Lane, nicknamed "Pistol" by our Daddy when he was a child, turns 56 today. He is a very special "young" man. He was brain-damaged at birth (due to dr. neglect) and suffered spinal meningitis at 12 days old. His mentallity is about a 2 yr. old.

When he was 7, we placed him in the Denton (TX) State School system, and he continues to live under that umbrella but now he is with a foster family. Godsequence alert! Before my Mother was pregnant with him, my Daddy, who was a member of the TX legislature, wrote the legislation that created this wonderful facility.

He's won all kinds of medals through Special Olympics, works part-time for the local Goodwill and adores his family, especially his great-nephews. I bring him home at Christmas, which necessitates me flying to Dallas, renting a car to pick him up in Denton and flying back home with him. I repeat this process when I return him.

One of our activities when he's home is always bowling as he is a Gold Medal winner. Here he is teaching Colin how to bowl. He had his foster Mom order all of us bowling shirts with our name on it.

Colin loves his Uncle Pistol and they entertain each other for hours, enjoying the same movies and television shows.

Pistol was very excited to meet his newest grand-nephew this Christmas, Dylan. They spent lots of time on the floor together, talking their own special language.

He is so loving and friendly. When I visit him in Denton and go places with him, everybody knows Pistol. He always introduces me as his "cookie sister," because I regularly bake chocolate chip cookies and ship them to him. It's Colin's job to add M&M's to the top of each cookie.

We are so grateful for Pistol who brings us unconditional love and joy. Happy Birthday Pistol!

Godsequence

2009-02-25T20:26:00.005-05:00

The word Godsequence came to me as a gift from God a few years ago. I use the word a lot and share it as often as possible so I thought this was a good venue to share.

I believe that there are no coincidences, small world experiences or ironies in life. They are all Godsequences.

If you are a believer in God; if you ask Him for guidance and wisdom; if you trust that He will give you guidance and wisdom; if you are open to Him; then what others think of as a "coincidence," is actually a direct result of God working in your life--thus, a Godsequence.

And, the great thing about this word, is the more you use it, the more you will experience Godsequences. I believe using the word is a form of worship; a thanksgiving or praise. And God loves to be thanked so He bestows more and more Godsequences in your life.

Here's just a couple of illustrations in my life. On my last flight I was reading a book on Jerusalem as I was considering making a trip to the Holy Lands. At the time the news was full of the coverage of the violence and unrest in Gaza. Among my considerations for the trip was my safety. My seatmate travels a lot in his business and was going to Jerusalem the next month and offered to email me with his experience. My seatmate was a Godsequence.

In 2007 I started planning a trip to Ireland and started researching renting a house over there. At the same time I got to know someone (we took our grandchildren to a music class) who had a cousin who not only was from and lived in Ireland but worked for....the Irish Tourism Board. She found me the perfect house. A Godsequence!

I could go on and on with small and large examples but I'd rather you try it! I promise, the more you use the word, the more you will experience Godsequences.

"My" angel boys

2009-02-22T14:29:00.009-05:00

"My" angel boys bring me great joy. On occassion they both spend the night with me to allow their Mother (my angel girl) some much needed time with friends and some rest. Last night was such a night.

They were perfect! Not only did they sleep through the night, but when I woke up about 7:20a to silence, I ran into Dylan's room for fear something was wrong, only to find him peacefully sleeping. Colin was sound asleep in my bed.

So then it was time to get them dressed for church. Their Mother had sent matching outfits for them. And I really did plan on taking pictures of them after they were dressed but by then I was running late and Dylan was loosing patience. But before I got them dressed, I caught these pictures in their "matching" outfits.

A huge success

2009-02-17T15:19:00.024-05:00

Friday, February 13 was a huge success. (See "A Valentine Banquet for The Greatest Generation" below). The seniors at our church have never felt so loved. People who have been members for over 50 years said it was the nicest event they had ever been to at our church. Others said they could have paid $100 at a restaurant and not had nearly as nice an evening.

Our Pastor had bought enough red roses to personally deliver one to each and every senior, much to their delight! Lots of red that night.

Our youth served, monitored by several adults and did an excellent job. Below is a picture of a couple, the husband of the two will not be here next year. His cancer is in his bones and it's spreading everywhere. He called me the next morning and lavished praise on our efforts and reminded me that he used to be my deacon and he was very proud of me. ;-}

In the background is the piano with lots of silver and glass candlesticks; one of a dozen ficus trees embraced with little white lights; and torch lights--all to provide soft lighting and illiminate the need for the usual bright lights.

The singers were superb. Below is my good friend Judi, who sang Always, much to the delight of the audience. And Shirley Temple's appearance (no photo yet) brought the house down.

The usual critical, complaining people had nothing but compliments and appreciation to share with all of us. It will be an event to remember....until next year when we try to improve on it and make it another special night for our oft forgotten seniors. I am so honored to have played a small part in making it happen.

Mother, the torch singer

2009-02-12T11:13:00.003-05:00

Sara Jane Armstrong Rutherford went to the University of Texas from a small farming community in south Texas in 1944, at the age of 17. She quickly acclimated and always said that in spite of the tragedies of WWII, it was a fun time to be at college, especially one with several military bases near-by.

She loved to dance and had a gorgeous voice. Back then, there were lots of dance clubs where the university girls and military guys matched up and danced the evening way. She assured me it was always safe because they stayed in large groups, never going off in pairs with “strange men.” She must have sung along to the songs of the Big Bands at her table because soon after frequenting these dance clubs, she was asked by management to sing along with the band and became the most popular torch singer, as they were known back then. If Sara Jane was singing, the house was full.

I grew up enjoying her voice and later singing along with her, accompanied by our player piano. We had all the songs from the 40’s and we would sit for hours singing together, much to the delight of my Daddy. So, as I prepare for this Valentine’s Banquet, Mother is constantly on my mind and close to my heart. I am remembering her gorgeous voice and love of singing. One of the songs that a friend is singing at the banquet is Always, a song Mother was always asked to sing at weddings and one we used to sing together. I already know I will shed a few tears when I hear that song, but I will always treasure sweet, sweet memories of her voice.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jZhrUZ_gk4&feature=related

A Valentine Banquet for the Greatest Generation

2009-02-11T22:51:00.004-05:00

I am having a wonderful time putting together a Valentine Banquet for our seniors at my church. Tonight several of us gathered to prepare some of the decorations ahead of time. Our children have created bookmarks, which we laminated and put ribbons through holes. Our youth will be serving a seated dinner for 155. And over 60 volunteers will be at the church parts of Friday afternoon and evening to create an evening to remember.

Valet parking and coat check is being provided and they will be ushered onto a red carpet. Their first stop is a large room, decorated and full of appetizers with Big Band music playing in the background. (All the CD’s came from Mother’s and Daddy’s collection.) Gradually the seniors will be escorted to a separate area to have their picture taken. At the end of the evening, their picture will be awaiting them to take home in a lovely frame.

A first class meal will be served followed by great entertainment. Some of our best singers are going to be using wireless mics, working the room and singing the oldies—Unforgettable, Red Roses for a Blue Lady, Sentimental Journey and lots more. And our very own Shirley Temple will be on hand to sing some of her favorites including, On the Good Ship Lollipop.

I am working hard and enjoying every minute of it. Isn’t it fun to do something for others, especially our seniors who so appreciate some attention? I’ll post pictures in a few days.

And so it begins….

2009-02-10T18:30:00.001-05:00

Being an author is like being in charge of your

own personal insane asylum. ~Graycie Harmon

I have thought about starting a blog for the past several months but several fears held me back. First, I didn’t want to be a copycat of those friends of mine who I had long admired for taking the time to put their thoughts out there for us to read. But then I realized what better way to compliment them but to start my own blog.

Then I worried that once I started one, would I have time to continue to post and material to post. But then I realized that not only do I have lots of life experiences to draw from but I am at a point in my life where I think I have the drive to post often enough.

I fretted about whether people reading my blog would be interested at all in what I write. But then I realized that people seem to be interested in what I have to say so why not what I have to write.

But, most importantly, it dawned on me that this blog is for me. It is a place for me to pontificate, share dreams, reveal past experiences, and just be. And, if others are enriched or even slightly entertained, so much the better.

And, so it begins…….