Proud gardener

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.