Spring morning in Maine

My almost favorite time of year is here.  The scent of apple blossoms drifts through the open window and the birds are singing, chirping, twittering and whistling back and forth from the trees around our home.  A car drives by and the sound carries for a few seconds and from where I sit, I can see out the back patio doors to green. White birch, green leaves and green grass.  We won't talk about the dead dandelions that defiantly stand tall challenging any lawn mower or weed digger to best them.  They'll soon be gone.  A breeze blows across my face and the sun rests gently on the leaves of the plant I don't have a name for.  Given to us by friends when my father in law passed away, it has tripled in size.  I turn my chair to face the window.  I can feel the heat as the rays hit my shins and bare toes and nestle there, no where else to go.

A neighbor walks by with her black dog.  They could be Nellie and I.  The puppy pulling at the leash heading for the ditch, sniffing out all the scents that entice him/her, the "master" tugging, "c'mon".  I remember how worn out I would be after a 2 to 3 mile walk with Nellie just trying to keep her on the straight and narrow.  We'd start out, her pulling on the leash "let's go let's go let's go!"  Ok, so LET'S go.  Soon her nose was to the ground and there was no rushing her now.  I use to think I'd leave her home next time so I could get my walk in at a faster pace.  But then I could never leave her behind, her black nose pressed against the window, her brown eyes looking sorrowfully at me.  I miss her, I miss THAT, and suddenly I want a warm furry body pressed against my legs or curled up in my lap assuring me that I am the most important person in it's world. 

The flag lifts slightly in the breeze then falls lazily back down, curled around itself and the pole.  How proud I am to be an American, how sad I am to see what is happening in this great country.  But for right now I will  enjoy the perfection of a warm and sunny spring morning in Maine

Tavia and Hospital Stays

Got the okay to share with all of you who love my niece, Tavia.  She spent Monday afternoon 'til late this morning at the hospital in Augusta.Maine General Medical Center  I must say if you have to be IN a hospital that is one very nice one.  She has been discharged but still waiting on results.  In the meantime she'll be set up with a Rheumatologist and a new PCP to get to the bottom of this once and for all.  Those of you who know her best, picture her sitting there on the hospital bed with 3 docs and 6 residents around her. One young nice looking doc which made it a bit more bearable I'm sure. They find her case quite interesting.  Monday, when asked how she would describe herself she said "easy going"  The staff had to agree as she never pushed the nurses button unless her IV was beeping incessantly (and only because Pammy and I begged her to) Sitting there 'til 11:00 Monday evening and then through the day yesterday we couldn't help but think of those of you who have sat day after day in a hospital room or the waiting room down the hall .. eating hospital food and hoping the doc will be back soon with a report, a good one.  We've gone through days like that with others we've loved and know just how wearying it can be.  Thankful Tavia is back home now and hoping her new doctors will figure this all out. 

My Talented Niece

Tavia Betts, is one talented little lady.  She has been busy sewing and knitting up a storm of American Girl clothes for her little cousin, Isabelle Marie.

Here's a look at some of her great designs for Izze's new Isabelle doll .. she has also made a clothes mannequin for "Isabelle" because one of the doll's hobbies is sewing.  Her stitching is impeccable.  Doll, Isabelle, is also a ballerina, so of course she needed a tutu and tank.  Unfortunately for anyone who would love to buy Tavia's designs, they aren't for sale.  Sewing is something she does for her own enjoyment and there are a few little girls in Tavia's life who are very lucky indeed

 

Yes, proud I am, and always excited to see what she has created next!

                             

Hush

The house has been quiet for long enough now .. my mornings are routine, my day stretches out and evening finally arrives along with the one who keeps me smiling.  It's too quiet which makes me think too much, mulling over, rehashing, regretting ... and then it occurs to me what a waste this is because it is too late now for a do over.  I can only move forward with a purpose in my heart to be better, gentler, kinder, more forgiving, more tolerant, more loving .. more gracious.  And always always remember that I am so far from perfect I have no right to pass judgement on any other human.

My heart holds a lot of love.  Some days that love overflows, splashing out on creatures big and small, on people around me who step back a little annoyed and try to brush it off or wring it out.  Ew, what IS that you just touched me with?  Embarrassed, now it is I who steps back, blushing a little and feeling silly that I'd thought they wanted some of that overflow.  Keep it to yourself, hold it in, don't let them know! I try to pretend it didn't happen and chasten myself silently.  "there you go again!"

Some people are not huggers, I have found out in what can be kindly called "awkward moments"   So, now that I know that, I'm fine without the hugs, so don't pretend you want a hug from me when a firm friendly handshake does just as well, if not better than that odd stiff armed hug you give me holding yourself away from me.   I can't accuse them of being "cold", they just don't want other people touching them.  It doesn't mean they don't "love" me ... I'm too much like a puppy or even a dog that sits at your feet, tongue hanging out with a silly grin on her face just waiting for approval and yes, love.

Just pat my head, smile at me and say "good girl" and I'll try not to trip you by laying at your feet.

How do I explain

How do I explain the nervous excitement of anticipation .. wondering "is this going to be good?  Is it going to be awkward? Will just being who we are be enough?"  Meeting Thy's parents for the very first time as George's car pulls into our drive, the snow coming down, the lights from our doorway casting a glow into the dark and shadows on the now white lawn, my stomach clenches just a little and my heart pounds a bit harder as I open the front door.  I wave, smiling big, because I really AM looking forward to this new development in our already topsy turvy, upside down, unorganized but very happy life and I want them to know how welcome they are. We love Thy, surely we will love her parents.

They climb out of the car, exhausted after driving up route 1 in a snow storm, in the back of an old Volvo with two dogs occasionally breathing down their necks, bags of clothing, food and four bottles of wine packed around them.  Thy with a gorgeous arrangement of flowers, greenery and persimmons in her hands.  They are smiling and we meet, look into each others eyes and hug. 

Thuy, called Becky by her American friends, is tiny.  I have to lean way down to hug her and I'm sure she was on tip toes and she smells wonderful.  Cuong has a huge grin and a big hug for me and I have to lean a little bit down for him too, but the hug is strong and real.

How do I explain the immediate camaraderie shared and felt by all four of us.  Two cultures melding swiftly, all differences disappear with each new thing we learn about each other. Becky and I are women, mothers, home makers, so much in common, but she has suffered things I can't even imagine.  Things that have made her the strong amazing woman that she is. I listen in awe and then she laughs and her face is transformed and I instantly fall in love with her.  The men are soon sharing their views and thoughts on deeper things, getting philosophical then laughing heartily over something one of them experienced in their past.  Two men so different, yet so alike.  Good hearts are joined.

George says there was a moment when he knew: "Mom's okay"  and it wasn't long in coming.  Both he and Thy had a bit of apprehension wondering how bringing their parents together for the holiday would go.  They knew they'd be there to help "break the ice" but soon found out no breaking was needed, there was no ice. 

We ate.  Seafood chowder prepared by Brad with crusty bread and later apple pie by the fireplace.  We talked.  We went to bed that first night marveling over a phenomenon we never expected.  Our hearts are lifted and we look forward to the following days with these two strangers who have become our good friends in just a matter of hours.

The holiday comes and goes in a blur of helping hands, happy faces, shared confidences, quiet moments, cozy fires and lots of laughter and the growing conviction that this is so good.  No clocks, no schedule (turkey took way longer than expected) simply fitting in, relaxing, enjoying .. don't remember who made the coffee that time, but the pot was almost always full, as well as our bellies.  Pastries, fruit, nuts, scones, pie .. there was cheese and a baguette and crackers that never got sampled.

A day of exploring, icy air, slippery sidewalks, hot coffee, cashmere gloves and blankets to "ooh" over, quick snapshots, no bags to carry, then home for more coffee, nibbles of this and that.  Evening out, dinner their treat, taking our time, more talking, sharing, laughing, and home again to enjoy the fire, dogs in our laps, a puzzle and sleepy eyelids.

How do I explain this feeling that we are family already and having just met Becky, I don't want her to leave and she with tears in her eyes doesn't want to say good bye.  So we don't.  Instead it's "see you soon" as we begin to plan our next visit together.  GA is beautiful in May they say, and there will most definitely be more trips north for them.

All because a boy went west and a girl went east and they met in Salt Lake City.  How do I explain this feeling of having wider eyes and a larger heart and so much thankfulness running over and out. This melding of Doans and Graves is surely a very good thing, and yes, just being who we are is enough.

 

Love Lines

Written for you, my very dear and very much loved
Aunt Darlydene and Unca Mahlon.

Love Lines

I look at your faces, the love in each line
and realize so clearly I want them in mine
I've worried too much what to me age has done
the expressions of life, the hours in the sun

I love every line, every curl of gray hair
the wisps of affection I see you two share
your lines have a meaning, moments through time
spent with your love, your partner in "crime"

Lines made by laughter, by worry and care
they're made by the love that has kept you both there
the wrinkles and "crows feet" I don't like on me
Look so endearing on you two, you see ..

His eyebrows so quirky, her brown eyes so dear
his grumbles of vowels and her chortles so clear
her table made ready with scrumptious delights
and his coffee made early and always just right

From the time I was little Unc, you've been solidly there
trustworthy and upright with that lovely thick hair
(I had to, it rhymes! Plus with all of your teasing it only seemed fair)
You're a man full of wisdom, both in action and word
of an uncle more humble, more kind I've not heard

And you, my dear aunt, always found by his side
you've loved him completely since you were his bride
I'm thankful for memories of a home full of love
of warmth and a goodness that came from above

I pause as I write this ... it's surely not so
my heart hurts just thinking of the one who must go
I can't stop the tears that are blurring my sight
and wonder how you, aunt, can get through the night

and then I remember, am reminded with shame
you both have a Father you can cry for by name
a God who will hold you safe through each day
and a Comforter to heal us when you, unc, slip away.

Uncle I love you much more than you know
I'll miss you tremendously when you're called to go
but oh what is waiting just 'round the bend
is but the beginning for you, not the end.

And those lines that I've hated to see growing deep
are now lines I'm loving and wanting to keep
I only see beauty when I look at you two
and know with a certainty they're worth it, I do.

Thank you for your faithful example of love
both for each other and your Father above.


your loving niece,
Kelly 

Dad is here for a few days.  He doesn't like to swim, in fact he nearly drown this summer leaning over to get his cell phone that had fallen into the pond.  Head first into the water he went.  No one saw him and thankfully his head didn't hit one of the many large rocks that border the shore there, or this could be a very sad summer indeed.  He managed to get himself back up, and it was then that someone looked out one of camp's windows and saw him sitting on the dock soaking wet, pretty shaken up.  He hasn't been a great lover of water for years now, so this wasn't one of his best moments I'm sure.

I did manage to get him to remove socks and shoes, roll his jeans up and sit down on the edge of the pool deck and stick his feet into the water.  While I floated on my air mattress we talked about old days, old friends and old shoes.  Mostly he talked, and if I did, his part of the conversation would be many "what?"s with me repeating what I'd said.  Still .. I've tucked that memory safely into a compartment in my brain (and heart) that I can pull out when I especially need to and be glad we had that day.

When he's here he goes through his old photos and papers that he keeps here .. again.  He comes downstairs and hands me things, or asks me if I "remember this" and passes me a photo of years ago.  This morning he brought the album of he and Mum's 50th anniversary the year before she left us, 2002, and shows me a picture "was I really that bald?"  Yup, you were Dad, and Mum had you comb those hairs over your head for years.  I love that he's stopped doing that and has soft white fuzz on top of his head now.  I'm afraid if Mama was still with us, he'd still be "combing over".  Sorry Mum, the only GOOD thing about you not being here.

I miss her.  Sometimes so longingly it hurts, but mostly with a dull ache in my heart that I can ignore because of all the joy I have in my life.  It's when I want to ask her something, or share something or think about how much she would love her great grandchildren.  Then it isn't so easy to ignore.  She would so totally enter into my joy.  Daddy tends to forget what I just told him 10 minutes ago .. or less.

Two things Dad brought down and left on my desk.  A poem that dear Murhl Howland gave him years and years ago.  Written on the back it says "some verses to put in your bible to read at times"   Murhl is blind now and near the end of his long full life.  Loved by more people than we know.  He was in his prime when he gave Dad that poem, and Dad was most likely in the early years of being a husband and father.

The other item is a poem I wrote in October of 1992.  I think back .. I was 31.  Still so young with no idea what lay ahead of me in the next 22 years.  Briana was 10 and 1/2, Ashley just 8 and George only 4.  Babies.  That was yesterday wasn't it?   I write poems when something touches my heart and soul.  So I wonder what it was that made this poem come to me.  Perhaps I'd reached an age with my three children that I realized just how important parenting is and how much my parents did for me.  Perhaps I got a glimpse that the day would come when I could give back a little bit of what I'd gotten. I hope Daddy can tell I do remember and love him so much for all he did as I was growing up.

So here they are.  I will share them both with you.


"When I was Young"
To Mama and Daddy
10/28/92

You were there, a solid pair to comfort and protect,
I took from you so easily and you gave as I'd expect.
A mother first, my friend indeed; a chore became a game.
A father, true, you made me proud; you never sought for fame.

You led me through those tender years and taught me all that's good.
I took for granted love like yours, but now it's understood.
The little things that meant so much, you did them all with ease ..
I never knew the sacrifice, the time spent on your knees.

The tears you shed, the fears you felt, you hid them from young eyes.
I only knew the warmth of love, support in all my "tries".

My Dad, you'd do most anything to make our play more fun.
And Mom, you filled the rainy days with rainbows one by one.
The kitchen warm with baking the ice all cleared of snow.
Picnics and adventures on a road we didn't know.

"Going through the porthole" taking off my Daddy's boots,
stories told by firelight, all these make up my roots.
Volleyball on summer eves, those days I can't forget.
Parents who will enter in, the lucky few will get.

 Now I'm a mother learning still of what it takes to be
unselfish, kind and honest; these things you taught to me.

You were there, a solid pair who held the standard high.
The path you chose, each step was clear you didn't "just get by".
You were there a solid pair, the need was always mine.
Now I want to give to YOU my heart, my home, my time.

I love you,
Kelly


Poem shared by Murhl Howland and kept in Dad's bible for years now.
("some verses to put in your bible and read at times")

"I Understand"

Hast thou been hungry, child of mine?  I too have needed bread.
For forty days I tasted naught till by the angels fed.
Hast thou been thirsty?  On the cross I suffered thirst for thee.
I've promised to supply the need.  My child, come unto Me.

Perhaps thy way is weary oft, thy feet grow tired and lame.
I wearied when I reached the well.  I suffered just the same.
And when I bore the heavy cross, I fainted 'neath the load
and so I've promised rest for all who walk the weary road.

Does Satan sometimes buffet thee, and tempt thy soul to sin?
Doth faith and hope and love grow weak?  Are doubts and fears within?
Remember I was tempted there by this same foe of thine,
but he could not resist the word nor conquer power divine.

When thou art sad, and tears fall fast, My heart goes out to thee.
For I wept over Jerusalem, that place so dear to Me.
And when I came to Lazarus' tomb, I wept; my heart was sore.
I'll comfort thee when thou dost weep, when sorrows are all o'er.

Do hearts prove false when thine is true?  I know the bitter dart;
I was betrayed by one I loved.  I died of a broken heart.
I loved My own; they loved Me not.  My heart was lonely too.
I'll never leave thee, child of Mine.  My loving heart is true.

Art thou discouraged in thy work?  Doth ministry seem vain?
I ministered midst unbelief with them, midst greed and gain.
They would not hearken to my voice but scoffed with one accord.
Your labor is not in vain if done unto the Lord.

Have courage, then, My faithful friend.  I suffered all the way.
Thy sensitive and loving heart I understand today.
Whate'er thy grief, whate'er thy care, just bring it unto Me.
Yes, in thy day of trouble, call.  I'll remember thee.