Her Father’s Homestead

Playing catch-up? Very often these days, I seem to be in catch-up mode; tonight is no exception.  With algebra going fairly well, but still time-consuming, and daily life with all that entails, things are good though the pace is frenetic. What keeps me grounded?  My faith, for sure, and the things I’m looking forward to - elder daughter will be with me in a month; I cannot wait to hug that child, though at almost 25, young woman is more appropriate.  Her sister, almost 24, is in the midst of a fairly large life event -buying a  first home; lots of excited phone calls back and forth.

With  these young women on opposite coasts and us all trying to stay involved in one another’s  lives, the time between hugs seems far too long.  My solace is that I must have done something right along the way to have two beautiful, intelligent, articulate, independent, successful young women who still count their mom as confidante and advisor.  I am so blessed and in no time at all I’ll be hugging my ErinLee and enjoying her laughter, and two months after that I’ll be hugging my Meghan Lee and hopefully visiting in her new home.  Great thoughts to keep me moving forward.

A fabulous Amma massage today certainly helped me relax and my return to a regular yoga class to readjust my form and move back toward the top of my game - all great things on the road to taking the best care of me so I can take the best care of all with which I’ve been entrusted. Be well and live on the upside of life, no matter how things appear.   Off to algebra for me.  À bientôt…

We talked yesterday about another of the Homestead’s children passing away, my Aunt Henrietta.  The day she died was one of those days you remember things about.  Later in the day I hopped on the lawn mower and rode around and around with memories tumbling through my mind.  Here I am on a lawn tractor thinking about how they cut the grass in years past.  I’ll have to ask my dad or my Auntie Arlene, married to my dad’s brother, Elmer, and a very sharp 90 year-old woman, known to her immediate family (and to me) as a prayer warrior, on her knees for those she loves.

She raised her three children here and made a home for both her mother and her mother-in-law, my Grandma Buelow.    We came here often;  Grandma lived here.  Any given Sunday we’d head to “The Farm.”  Auntie Arlene would cook for a crowd and there often was a crowd as aunts, uncles and cousins came just like my family did. A lot of memories and lots of food for thought and future writings.

The day Aunt Henrietta passed I was mowing the lawn and thinking about things, as you do when life events occur.  Mowing around the big lilac tree - don’t know what else to call it, it’s huge - I pictured my grandmother welcoming another of her children home to heaven and though sad at losing yet another family member, the image of my smiling Grandma made me happy and that, I believe, would have been their time to dance….

Note:  I began drafting this post a few days after the passing of another of the Homestead’s children, my aunt/godmother.   I’d like to expand on it now and honor her memory.

A time to mourn and a time to dance;  that’s the complete phrase.  Not an original title by any means, but so appropriate.  Another of the ten children born in this old house, the Buelow homestead, has passed on.  My Aunt Henrietta, named after her mother, my Grandma Buelow, was taken home - fairly unexpectedly.   She was my the youngest of the ten children in my father’s family and I hate to say it, this leaves him as the sole survivor of that family, the last living person who was born in this old house.

Back to my Aunt Henrietta, the unexpected passing of a woman loved by many - her husband, children, grandchildren, nieces,nephews and her last remaining sibling, my father.  Another reminder that there is indeed a time.

Mourning is different depending on the relationship.  I’d never claim my loss as being close to that of her children.  For me it’s more about the passing of time, the passing into history of someone I knew and loved.  I’m a traditionalist - history and tradition are important to me.  History  reminds me where we’ve been and the rich heritage  and hardy stock from  which  I come.  Tradition, as I tell my daughters, is the glue that binds us together.

And we’ll continue these thoughts in Part Two.

There was a time when the night before Ash Wednesday would have my attention more for what was happening at Mardi Gras in New Orleans and Rio than for any spiritual meaning.  Tonight is different.

I’ve had an interesting week and am feeling very blessed!  I was given insight into a situation that had been on my heart and the message was very positive and hopeful.  I’ve once again had the opportunity to participate in a big way in making a difference in some one’s life and there is nothing that compares to the feeling!!!  I’ve also had a situation that could have been fairly upsetting, but instead I’ve seen the miracle in it and am giving thanks.  And I mean miracle, plain as day.

I believe I’ve mentioned my current Bible study and it gets into the whole concept of miracles, what’s real, what’s not, what can we ask for and what can we claim.  It is so timely in my life.

I’m coming up on the three-year mark of what  I believe to be being healed of brain cancer.  Three years ago at this time I was enduring unbelievable headaches, pain beyond description, even for someone who had suffered intense migraines for decades.

I’ll not recount it here, as it’s a life event that occurred and is in the past.  Lent and Easter of 2006, though, were intense times and many lessons have been learned and many memories made since then.  I said then and have lived it since - no health challenge is going to define me.  Shape perhaps, maybe even refine or hone some of my beliefs, but defined by a physical challenge?  No thanks!!

So embarking on this Lenten 2009 journey of leaving behind SHOULD and its ensuing guilt,  I’m a very grateful, very thankful, very fulfilled woman, living daily in wonder at the blessings I have and see all around me.  Everything peachy?  Not quite, but compared to where I’ve been, things look pretty good.  The French refer to la vie en rose; I’d say it’s all in how you choose :)  Adieu……

Who knew when deciding to embark on the next 30 days to leaving the Shoulds and an Illegitimate Ruler behind that it would coincide beautifully with Lent?  Well, Someone knew and ya gotta love how these things work out :)  So my Lenten journey it will be.

I’ve never been one to “give something up for Lent.”  Why?  Because I was raised in a traditional Protestant denomination and we didn’t do that.  As an adult I did, however, observe Lent in some way.  The one that sticks out  in my mind ALWAYS was the year I decided to switch to a Lent focus for our breakfast devotional time, more than a decade ago.

Those were still the days of getting children out the door to school each morning.  They were growing up, though, not little girls any more - both freshman that year (longer story) - two different schools, different start times, one requiring me to drive  12+ miles one way.   But we continued breakfast together every day - cereal, oatmeal, french toast, whatever, served on the breakfast counter with juice and supplements and a quick devotional to send us all out the out the door wrapped in peace and love against a cruel world.

The year in question I chose to switch to a Lent focus by reading portions of one of my favorite authors, Max Lucado.  Max has great books for everything but my favorites for Lent are  Six Hours One Friday, No Wonder They Call Him Savior, He Still Moves Stones, Applause of Heaven.  My thought was to use a small portion of one of the books each morning, but that was not so well received.  One of my daughters began to protest about the extra time it would take, and we all know time in the morning can be at a premium.    One thing led to another and in short order our morning sharing time was not so pretty.  I was hanging on to my right as the mother to insist.  My daughter was hanging on to her position as a young teenage girl.  So sparks began to fly, with the other daughter caught in the crossfire.  So much for sending my children out into the cruel world wrapped in peace and love each morning.

My good friend, Marlee, veteran Bible study partner and (at that time) mom of teenage daughters a few years ahead of mine, was a great resource.  So I went to her with my dilemma and lo and behold, the advice was not what I was anticipating.  She was supposed to tell me that I was absolutely right in my right to insist and that I should stand firm.  Didn’t happen.  What I got was the advice that perhaps the time had come to release my daughter’s relationship with the Lord to my daughter and the Lord.  What??  I’m her mother!!  It’s not time yet and I’ll decide!!  Think maybe I had challenges with the “Shoulds” way back then

I had to do something and gave sincere thought to Marlee’s suggestion, took it in prayer, and went to separate breakfast times and back to the original plan of a brief teen-centric devotion and less strain in the morning.  I don’t remember how long we continued the routine of devotion in the morning, but I believe through most of high school.  One of those rites of passage, but a treasured memory in this mother’s heart.  AND I just took a moment from writing this post and called Marlee.  We had a brief conversation, chuckled together at the memories and made arrangements to get together soon.  And Lent 2009 begins in a few days….

A quick peruse of Roget’s online Thesaurus gives many synonyms for the word hopeful.  My favorite? There are several, but blithe and buoyant just kind of roll off the tongue.  I love words and languages, and words, as I am known for saying,  matter. And frankly, I’ve been witnessing some challenges with words.  Are the challenges with words alone -  improper usage, negative, harsh words -  or with life situations or attitudes, the deeper issues?    All of those apply and they’re all valid to some extent. Ask my girls -  “Mom, I’m sick,”  was likely to draw the response, “Keep saying that and you probably will be.”  A student who makes the mistake of saying, “I can’t do that,” is likely to hear, “Keep telling yourself that you can’t and it’ll probably be true.”  I love having an eight-year-old tell me, “Miss LeeAnn, I’m having a challenge with this music.”

I can almost hear the eyes rolling :)  Here we go again, the mind over matter speech, the positive thinking approach.  You bet.  It matters.  After I titled this post I downloaded the video for my current Bible study, and sure enough, there’s one of my favorite Bible teachers, Beth Moore, talking about hope, being hopeful, and using words that DO matter.  One of those little Sparkles of confirmation.  And sure enough, my ErinLee called and said, Mom, “I’m getting sick, I mean, I’m fighting off an illness.”  Words matter.  How much better to be fighting off illness than to be sick or worse yet, feeling “awful”.  Say the words, hear them.  Much better to be fending off than succumbing to or worse.

Even more important when challenged by an emotion like fear.  Do not, for one second, give fear a foothold in your mind.  For sure never, ever give it a voice!  I am NOT afraid, fear not, I will fear no evil, on and on.  Better yet, leave the word- fear- out completely.  Try:  I am feeling strong; I am trusting the Lord to protect me.  I have EVERY confidence.  Get the picture?

Who cares?  I do.  There are a variety of books on the subject, among them, The Tongue, a Creative Force by Charles Capps.  There have been many teachings and there are many people  who believe in the power of words.

Try it - make it a game in your family until it becomes habit in your life.  Choose your words carefully - to encourage a positive attitude, to change a less-than-happy mood, to drive out fear and/or negativity, to overcome challenges, to accomplish great things,  fulfill your heart’s desire.

Words matter and I’m most hopeful that you’ll agree with me and give it your best shot :-)          à plus tard….

I’m still playing catch-up from the weekend misfortunes, but at least I’m playing.  I definitely had an attitude challenge going and thankfully,  have moved through it.  My house is almost normal, though my ears are tuned to the on/off cycles of the furnace and I”m less than completely unpacked.  But my truck is running and I was able to get groceries and sand from the pile kept by the city for ice emergencies such as we had.  Hard to imagine that clearing away ice is a topic of local news, but it is.  I heard that cities nearby are going to begin sending out workers to chop/scrape ice from the sidewalks and homeowners will be charged $80 for the service.  That’s winter where I live.

I don’t have sidewalks.  I have a fairly long driveway that empties into a circle around which the house, garage, shed, barn, etc, are grouped, a fairly large area to attack with traditional methods like sidewalk salt and/or sand and a manual ice chipper.  So I mixed salt into the 32-gallon trash barrel full of sand and spread it strategically, hoping that a slight rise in temperature would facilitate some melting.  The weatherman said it wouldn’t happen today, but how often is the guy right?  Today, of course, when I have to make sure that my students and their parents can get in and out of the driveway and the house safely.

Being a generally positive positive person and no longer dwelling in self-pity, I looked for the humor.   Today that was visualizing myself trying to carry a bucket of salt/sand from back steps to garage - remember it’s an out-building -while utilizing ski poles to stay upright - how many hands did I say I have?  But at least the ski poles were handy, already out on the back porch as part of seasonal decor and they did, indeed, aid in keeping me on my feet and a brown salt/sand path now runs from the house to the garage making safe passage  more likely.

As for getting the truck started, thanks to the wood stove out in the garage and numerous trips to stoke it with kindling and all the paper I’ve been meaning to burn, bundled and booted against negative wind chills,  I produced enough heat to thaw the lines of the truck and on one of those trips to stoke the fire I decided to just give it another try.  Singing like a child at the top of my lungs - another reason to live in the country fairly far removed from neighbors - “I am trusting Thee to guide me, Thou alone shalt lead, every day and hour supplying all my need,”   I turned the key in the ignition and, voilà, the truck started.

To quote my father once again, “There you have it.”  When feeling sad, defeated, low, I resort to music and prayer, sometimes together via old favorite hymns, or playing my piano.   Try it, sing like no one can hear you, unless you have a beautiful voice - then sing so everyone can.

And remember, you cannot - it’s not physically possible - you cannot be singing  praises out loud and dwelling in despair in your mind.    The brain doesn’t work that way - we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

No, I won’t, I will not title this nor will I think in terms of how many hours are left before I get on a plane and head for home.  I just am not ready to think about my time here with Meghan coming to an an end. 

So I will focus on the positive - the time we’ve had and the wonderful day we spent yesterday, full of Meghan’s favorite things about “her” city - we played outside and ate well and she just generally showed me around Columbia and all the highlilghts.

It’s been a wonderful trip, many memories created, lots of things to write and talk about, a zillion photos that will be so fun to go through, probably the second thing I do once I get home, the first being reacquainting my dogs with the house - they’ve been outside dogs for nine days!!!  Hopefully they will remember their manners with just a bit of prodding, not unlike when they came in the house after I came home from my first surgery.

Anyway - I am so thankful for the time I’ve had here - wonderful conversations that just happen when you’re spending good time together and laughs and jokes and memories.  So I’m taking the good, the very good, from this trip and still have time with Meghan before going to the airport so I am thankful, grateful, smiling, and will remain that way to the end.  Blessings!!!

This is being posted without links or more than a cursory spell-check so please bear with me if you come across errors.  It’s hard for me to do things this way, but it’s either post or be done for the day and it’s only 10:30 a.m. so I’m going to close my eyes and just hit the button. 

Meghan and I spent a sensational weekend in Charleston, one of our very favorite cities.  Walking cobblestone streets, photographing beautiful old buildings painted bright blue, green, yellow, a myriad of colors!  There’s so much history in Charleston, a harbor city, as well as the Southern hospitality that we so love, the graceful lifestyle, not to mention FABULOUS food!!   So we walked and walked, reveling in the sunshine, the warmth and the smells of a harbor city in the South.  A great Saturday – antique shops, unique shops, a killer jacket for me, and a perfect “little black dress” for Meghan.  We had to chuckle as these great little shops were selling their WINTER clothes at 40% off.  So the jacket was a steal and at home it’ll be a blazer with jeans or khakis – UNDER my winter coats!  I have photos of me on the Battery, leaning against the railing, bare feet, and little jacket.  And I have many, may photos of my Meghan.  A late dinner of pasta (Meghan) and pasta and shrimp in a Gorgonzola sauce for me topped off our wonderful day together in the city.   

We stayed in an inexpensive hotel and headed out to a great church Sunday morning, the Long Road, Mount Pleasant, campus of Seacoast Church.  Excellent music and the message – it spoke directly to me.  You’ll find I’ve taken the title for my next post from what I heard Sunday morning. The rest of Sunday was, literally, a day at the beach - on the Isle of Palms, a place I’ve wanted to visit since reading a book by that title from the only fiction writer I read a Low Country author, Dorothea Benton Frank.    Sunshine, warmth, looking for shells, reading on a blanket next to my daughter with the ocean sounds as a backdrop.  Does it get any better than that?  Stayed tuned as the next post will feature insights from Sunday’s message that has been resonating in my head ever since – just a perfect message – God’s timing, always right on!

Okay not even the low number of hours till I’m hugging my Meghan can begin this post.  The feature here is, get this, minus 6° (6 below zero) air temp with a WIND CHILL of  minus 28 degrees.    That’s a wind chill factor of 28 DEGREES BELOW ZERO right now, as I’m writing.  Didn’t I use the words brutal cold yesterday?  We are there and it is indeed brutal. It even looks harsh out there and winter officially began just hours ago.

Am I heading out to church?  No, and I’m reasonably certain the Lord understands.  I will visit one of my favorite preachers online, Pastor Greg Laurie at Harvest Christian Fellowship in Riverside California, and listen live because they stream the video during each of their services.  I can  watch/listen three times today.  In between their services I can pop over (virtually)  to Appleton Alliance Church, a wonderful place, but  difficult to travel there from here especially with blowing, drifting snow.  Pastor Dennis there was a powerful pray-er for me prior to my second brain surgery and is a gifted preacher.  I download and listen to his sermons regularly.

My own father, the most gifted preacher I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard many,  doesn’t yet have his sermons on their Web site.    I chuckled when I first moved out here and ran into some of his former parishioners.  The wife was telling me how they were out for a Sunday drive, flipping through radio stations and they heard “The Voice”  and knew immediately who it was. At 83, he’s still got it.  Having grown up with the best, I do admit to having fairly high standards for preachers.  While I certainly know that it’s supposed to be the message, not the messenger;  the messenger makes a difference.  And my father is a very powerful messenger.  Maybe he’ll get his sermons on the Web and you, too, can hear him preach.  Are you reading this, Dad? 

So that’s my Sunday - I have my last transcription job of 2008 due tomorrow morning in addition to hauling out the snow-blower AGAIN and bundling up against the wind AGAIN, then more cleaning, laundry, packing, the usual pre-holiday (as in vacation) routine previously referred to .  Don’t think I’ll get to “wiping up the floor” at all  and to use one of my father’s famous lines once again - There you have it.

In 50 hours I’ll be at the airport in Green Bay, waiting to take off for Columbia, South Carolina, where my Meghan will be waiting to pick me up.  I will surely be dancing through the cleaning and packing today, amen