top ten posts: visiting Lily, Mark & Jill

In late July/August we took our first big trip since Bill's surgery,

seeing all (almost) the kids and grandkids: quite a road trip.

I'm amazed how quickly Lily is growing!

 

 

We've been back more than a week from a road trip to see all the little ones. It was worth all 1400 miles and rest areas along the way. The McDonald's $1 summer iced coffee special was a plus!

It's funny when people say, "oh, you have great places to go and visit your kids and grandchildren!" What can I say? I'm a homebody. Didn't like rides in the car as a kid and still don't ... but I'll do it for these treasured babies. We don't do a whole lot of sightseeing when visiting because, well, do you remember having toddlers? They eat often. They nap. And they go to bed early. If you push them to do too much, they let you know loudly and clearly! So much of the visit is spent in and near the house. And frankly, they wear us out! Wonderfully worn out.

Anyway, you know I go nowhere without my camera and I love to catch the children just being themselves. Forget trying to tell a two-year-old to "smile for the camera." So here's what I caught ...

I took Lily to a little playground near their townhouse. She loves to slide!

 

We went to Great Falls National Park, very cool ... Lily playing with Popsy

 



I love to see them learn ... great comprehension before all the words come!
Jill is already making learning fun.

 

A bit shy, but impish and sweet and coming into her own.

 



Playing doctor with Baba

 

 

Lily will become a big sister in a few short weeks! So I'm excited to go back.

 

Next post: the three Musketeers!

 

 

top ten posts: dads matter

Reader interest in this post surprised me. Maybe it's an idea that needs revival: the importance of fathers.

 

From the moment a man first holds his newborn,

a dad is born, too.
And he matters.

my son Mark

As his strong arms swing a toddler over his head,

a dad matters.

When he pulls a laugh from his wife at the end of a trying day with those toddlers,

a dad matters.

When he cares for his children (it's not called babysitting) on a Saturday morning,

feeding them food their mother wouldn't,

a dad matters.

When he lets his children push the limits of safety and common sense,
fostering in them a sense of adventure,

a dad matters.

As he learns to braid hair and change diapers,
trim tiny fingernails, and fill sippy cups,

a dad matters.

When he heads to countless little league games after long days at work,
a dad matters.
When a man comforts the broken heart of his young daughter
and wipes her tears away,
he means the world to her.
When a man listens to the stories of his children's day at bedtime,
they come to rely on him, and he matters.

And when he prays with them,
he matters as they learn to turn to God for their strength.

my son Dan



When a father teaches lawn-mowing, throwing, catching, batting,

and rides for 50 hours with his student-driver son,

that dad matters.

When a man takes the old family dog to be put down,

and doesn't hide his tears from his children,

he matters.

my husband Bill

When a father is flexible and

wisely changes his fathering as his children mature,

he matters.

More than he knows.

When a man nears the end of his days

and reflects on his time of fathering,

he will find peace if had the wisdom, love and foresight ...

to matter.

my dad

Dads matter, perhaps more than anything.

They are God's representative on earth,

and today I honor the dads in my life:

my own dad, my husband, two of my sons, and my brothers.

top ten posts: little girl gardening

Come on, being Baba to five little ones is incredible! I love to photograph and write about them. This post back in June right after Noah's birth was popular:

I'm in Charlotte, getting to know Noah

and lending a hand.

The newborn days ... how quickly I forget

a mother's extreme fatigue and adjustments,

a father being spread so thin,

the babe's constant needs to eat and sleep,

plus two toddlers in the mix.

When I arrived yesterday, three-year-old Ari

was proud and pleased to show me their garden.

I rather like these photos of her ...  



Plenty of pea-harvesting.

I love how she is already adept at this!

Yes, she was in her swimsuit.

A three-year-old is much too busy to

change clothes as she goes to a new activity.

I suppose most grandmothers take photographs of

their grandchildren's faces.

But I have a thing for the tops of their heads.

So soft and sweet and irresistible.

Ashlyn, nearly two.

And the newest head of all,
Noah Daniel, 5 days old.
Oh my goodness look at that hair.
I'm in love.

My dad, who lives in Nashville,

is declining bit by bit. I'm trying to focus completely

on my grandchildren, but a portion of my heart is with my dad.

It is very hard to feel pulled, physically and emotionally,

in several directions.

Today, Lord. Give me strength only for today. 

top ten posts: balancing acts

One of the biggest events of the year was Bill's spinal surgery in April. He's doing great now and has a positive attitude, although he isn't fully recovered.
It was a scary time but also one of seeing the world of medicine and rehabilitation: very inspiring and humbling for us both.
This post picks up during his 2-week rehab stay.

Practicing balance with Katie, PT.



Bill is working very hard this week on the rehab unit at Riverside.

I didn't doubt that he would, but it's hard to watch him

push through the pain and muscle weakness.

I know he's frustrated that he has such a long road.

Upper arms that worked before are significantly weakened from the surgery.

Balance needs work.

And his gait, the signal that first alerted us to his problem,

must be retrained.

Bill's making steady progress,

albeit not as rapid as he'd like.

He's doing a lot more self-care,

but isn't allowed to walk anywhere alone.

In his down time, if not napping,

Bill makes a phone call or two, can text,

reads the paper and watches TV.

He's made a couple of buddies on the unit,

some of whom have challenges greater than Bill's.

The PTs and OTs continue to amaze me.

They show compassion and humor,

but with an iron-will determinedness to help Bill

become independent again and come home.

Your messages, cards, calls and meals mean so much.

Every card is on display in his room,

and I read him the texts and e-mails.

I know you are a great encouragement.

Thank you, thank you!

Please pray for a increased stamina ... and a target release date!

top ten posts: the long goodbye

This post drew perhaps more readers than any other, ever: 286. And since today my dad would have turned 89, I am sharing this post, published on February 26. His four-year journey with dementia seemed long at times,

but now it seems we had him for a short time.

 



 

My sister and I spent the weekend with our dad in Nashville.

He lives at Richland Place, with excellent caregivers.

Since we all live out of state, my three siblings and I take turns visiting Dad

so that he sees one of us regularly.

Dad is strengthened by the genes of longevity.

His father lived into his 80's, and his mother died at 91.

Though he is physically frail, Dad's main challenge is dementia.

In over three years of visits, I have seen his mental acuity slowly ebb away.

While he recognizes us and his caregivers,

he is conversing less and less.

He doesn't ask about my children or my life.

His dementia is like a strengthening monster that consumes

Dad's ability to engage with reality.

A conversation will suddenly turn to

comments about "snakes in this area" or a blank stare when I ask a simple question. By 3:30 each afternoon, Dad asked about breakfast.

"Let's go get some breakfast," he said. 

Dad's life was characterized by a sharp and witty mind.

He was a planner, a worker, methodical and creative.

He was an artist, a woodworker, a businessman and provider.

But these days, Dad sits. He watches a little TV, sleeps a lot

and must rely on others for his most basic needs.

At the beginning of this journey, we had many conversations.

I learned about Dad's childhood in rural Arkansas,

where his house had no plumbing and mail was delivered on horseback.

But Dad's world is shrinking.

An "outing" this weekend was pushing him outside and

up and down the halls

of Richland Place.

Visits with Dad are deeply emotional for me, and sadly sweet. 

I know the promise of heaven awaits

for those who know God, and he does.

So why is this so hard?

I remember August mornings on the coast of Maine.

A heavy fog rolls in. There is no escaping it.

That's how it is with Dad.

I think of questions; things to say to pull him back.

But it's futile.

 It seems I am trying to outrun an enveloping mental fog that

 obscures his ability to comprehend.

It's a long good-bye, really.

A very long good-bye.



top ten posts of 2013

In the midst of wildly preparing for Christmas: shopping, wrapping, food-planning etc, I had an idea today to end the year with ten top blog posts of the year. Why do big ideas explode in the middle of chaos?!

Anyway, I'm looking back over the year and choosing the top ten based on completely subjective criteria. Some posts had lots of readers, others had a number of comments, and some were my personal favorites.

In no particular order, here goes. Today's is May 31, the day my first grandson was born, entitled "Welcome, Noah Daniel!"

Dear Noah,

A first-time hello and welcome to the world from your Baba! Happy birth-day!

Though my cell phone was right beside me last night, it was on 'vibrate' so we missed the messages that your mama's water had broken and daddy was whisking her off to the birthing center.

Good we still have a house phone; your daddy got through just after 1:00 a.m. "On our way!" He sounded excited but also totally calm. After all, it was his third time around: he's a pro!

And then at 3:01 a.m. the message came that you'd arrived at 2:31 a.m! That is to say, for being a few days overdue, you were good and ready to join your family. You weighed a healthy 8 pounds 11 ounces and are 21.5" long. Yay for mom!

All that's behind us now. You came home in a few hours and spent most of the day, as best we can tell, sleeping. Late this morning, we got to see you with Mommy, Daddy, Ari and Ashlyn via Skype. We're so thankful for this amazing technology which is the next best thing to being there with you. Not the same as a snuggle, but better than when your dad was born!

I think your name is amazing. Noah of the Bible listened to and obeyed God, (though people thought he was crazy building that big boat), and was rewarded. I pray you, too, will be a Noah of obedience to your heavenly father. 

I can't wait to visit you, Noah, as soon as I can. Until then, I know you're in good and loving hands. I pray and trust you have a wondrous life ahead of you!

Much, much love, my dear grandson,

your Baba

Noah with his big sisters, Ari and Ash

 

thank you

Where there is a thankful spirit,

there is joy.

After my short "please comment" post on Monday, I didn't know what to expect.

Three comments were made that day,

and on yesterday's post.

They were few, but richly powerful.

Who asks for compliments? Only the insecure.

But truly, I just hoped for some feedback.

Sarah, Lyn and Dove: you were generous in your comments.

Just to know you're reading and would like me to continue writing

is enormously encouraging. So thank you.

And Kathleen, Megan and Dove commenting yesterday:

you were overly generous.

I know it isn't easy to keep coming back to a blog;

there are very few that receive my regular attention.

So thank you when you read.

My spirit is joyful and I hope yours is, too.

While we're at it, what do you especially enjoy reading?

Suggestions?

hello?

Well, in the last 11 posts, there's been just one comment. Are you there? I know you're reading. What do you think? Are you too busy? Have you nothing to say? Have I gone boring and flat?

After the sweat of writing, the discipline, the self-imposed guilt, writers really want feedback. I'll keep writing. But I sure would love to hear from you!

Writing is like eating -

you need to do it every day or risk starvation.

~ Carol J. Rottman

the people of Heart of Ohio

Yesterday Bill and I took a little drive up to Mansfield, Ohio. At the lovely Westbrook Country Club we met the editor (well, we already knew her - hi, Diana!), publisher and others who write for Heart of Ohio Magazine. It was a cozy couple of hours, learning what's coming up for 2013 at Heart of Ohio. Especially fun was hearing from each person and what he/she has in mind for future articles and themes.

Ever since I decided to get serious with my writing, I've loved meeting and swapping ideas with other writers. It's an instant connection we seem to share: a geeky love of assembling words and working to get them published. I remember my first writers conference: I felt like I'd come home! At no other time or place had I been surrounded by so many people who loved writing.

Anyway, Heart of Ohio Magazine is going gangbusters! While you can access it online, you could also treat yourself to a subscription and help ensure that it continues to grow. Each issue, you'll find positive stories of the people, places and events that make up the heart of Ohio. I'm honored to be a contributing writer. Go to www.heartofohiomagazine.com for more info!


Writing ... when I first met Ari.



the writing life

Life continues to keep me busy, busy. This week I wrote an article for Heart of Ohio magazine, a neat little publication whose editor, Diana Coon, I got to know. She asked if I'd like to write for each of their six issues this year, I said yes, and, well, it's kept me on my writing toes.

So click on the link, go to back issues - and current issue - and you can read my stuff. Better yet, subscribe! The current issue's article is on biking in Ohio, and lots more by other writers.

"See" ya next week!

Thurber House!

Yesterday Katie invited me to a "secret destination" in Columbus. I had no idea where we were going until we pulled off Broad Street in the heart of downtown. And then I knew: Thurber House! For years I've wanted to visit this home of James Thurber, born in Columbus in 1894.

"James Thurber was an American author, cartoonist and celebrated wit. Thurber was best known for his cartoons and short stories, published mainly in The New Yorker magazine then collected in his numerous books. One of the most popular humorists of his time, Thurber celebrated the comic frustrations and eccentricities of ordinary people." [Wikipedia]


We learned all sorts of interesting tidbits about Thurber while wandering through the house. His mother was a born comedian, thus Thurber's skillful wit. His father sometimes slept with the dogs in an alcove off the living room, presumably to escape his family. And Thurber lost an eye from his brother's mis-aimed bow and arrow. The Thurbers lived in this home during his years at Ohio State University ... they lived in a dozen other houses around Columbus over the years, too. The attic was made into an apartment for "writers in residence."



Posing pointlessly in an upstairs hallway.

Imagine writing on this ... Thurber's typewriter.
(I love how Katie, the photographer, simply pulled a curtain open so I'd have
enough light for this photo.)

Dozens of writers have visited here, and their photos hang on the stairway.

Then it was on to the North Market across town where we sampled some delicious Jeni's ice cream.

Best of all was an afternoon spent with my thoughtful daughter who planned the outing!

Carson McCullers

I'm attempting to read The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers. Were it not for my mother, I might never have discovered McCullers. Mom was intrigued by McCullers and introduced me to her writing when I was a young teen. My reading log doesn't include it, but many years ago I read Member of the Wedding and later Ballad of the Sad Cafe.

Carson McCullers was born Lula Carson Smith in 1917 in Columbus, Georgia. At the age of 13 she dropped 'Lula' and became Carson. Initially, Carson planned to be a concert pianist and even attended Juilliard, but soon pursued writing.

Carson had a tumultuous marriage to Reeves McCullers, suffered years of illness and strokes, and even attempted suicide. She died from the effects of a stroke and brain hemorrhage at age 50 in 1967.

I'm not much of a book reviewer; my mind is not excellent at analyzing literary works. What intrigues me is the writer and her process; her place in life and ability to overcome personal struggles and write a literary sensation at the age of 23. Tennessee Williams called McCullers "the greatest prose writer that the South produced."

What makes the mind of such a woman tick? Why have so many incredible writers come from the South? How can one so young write with such depth, power, emotion, and darkness? I will read her work. And whether I finish it with more questions than answers, I'm sure to be intrigued by Carson McCullers.

summer reading and writing

Summer is usually when I read the most. I read two books in a week while in Michigan two weeks ago. Now, with June almost over, I need to line up a few more books.

Sometimes (usually) I have a hard time deciding. I typically read only one or two novels a year. Love biographies. Bonhoeffer was amazing and I have John Adams by David McCullough, but not sure if I want to tackle another long biography. Love stories of faith. I like books on people who overcome adversity. And psychology fascinates me.

Then there's writing. My well of blog post ideas is running a little dry. Any ideas? For that matter, any book recommendations? What are you reading this summer? Suggestions welcome!

Reading and writing ... yes, those are what I love. Arithmetic? No, thank you!

this 'n that

Lots of odds and ends going on and finding it hard to settle down for regular posting. Sorry!

***

About once a month or so we run to Columbus, the big city, for provisions

we can't get here in our town. We did that this morning, and got to see

Katie for about 30 minutes. She's on a retreat with friends. It's good to have access to the

city, but I still love our smaller town!

***

Since Lily's still very much a newborn, she exhibits all those newborn traits such

as crying for no apparent reason. So now and then I go over

and do my baby whispering thing. I don't think (old) moms ever forget how

to hold and console a crying baby!

Check out this adorable post of Lily meeting her great-grandmother Elizabeth.

***

Pretty soon we'll be heading south to spend some time with Ari, 2 and Ashlyn, 8 months.

Oh, and Dan and Jenny, too.

It will be a rambunctious good time, I'm certain of that!

***

Yes, I did get some writing done this week.

No, not to my satisfaction.

***

I'm still swimming at our new Y, about 3 times a week.

Slow and steady.

***

Glory be, my tulips, daffodils and crocus are coming up.

And one crocus is in bloom!

***

The forecast this week is spectacular.

Not exactly sit-at-my-desk weather.

***

Hope you're making the most of your weekend!

"I don't like writing"

I switched direction

on some of my writing this week.

Thought I was going one way,

but it wasn't happening.

Changed direction completely today,

and now it seems right. I hope. Better, at least.

Other things get in the way.

Exercise, groceries, cooking dinner, laundry.

Bothersome!
Do these necessaries get in the way of writing,
or is it the other way around?

 

"I don't like writing. I like having written."

- Ernest Hemingway

writing week

Desk organized.

Papers pitched.

Books rearranged.

Shelves dusted.

Trash emptied.

Last year's planner put away.

This year's planner front and center.

Most-often used books: Bibles, dictionary, writer's market guide, journal

 lined up and ready.

Favorite pens & yellow highlighter at hand.

This week presented itself to me as open and available for - what?

Writing, of course.

An article is due at the end of the month for Heart of Ohio magazine.

I've been wanting to take a look at other writing opportunities that have caught my eye.

But. At times, I'm my own worst enemy.

I sit at my desk, watching the wind blow a light March snow around.

Finish coffee.

Wonder if Lily's napping or not.

Back downstairs for more coffee.

Throw in a load of laundry. 

Creating a huge anticipation to work and yet,

 I'm distracted.

I think it's less "writer's block" and more "writer's avoidance."

Two or three good hours put in today.

It will have to do.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Christmas dog

My good friend Karen Dawkins encouraged me to make it to 200 posts by making some great suggestions. Thanks for giving me the push, Karen!

Not sure there will be a theme, but here we go for today: our dog Ellie. She posed nicely for me on the back porch. Her Christmas scarf belonged to our next-door-dog, Callie, who passed away this year. Ellie misses her. Well, I think she does.

My sweet Katie arrives home from college soon! Well done, Katie: one more semester to go! I am proud of you.

12 more posts to go.

the process

Don't know if you noticed, but I've challenged myself to reach 200 blog posts this year. If my math is correct, I'll need 13 more posts after today. That'll be 59 more than in 2010. I'm not sure why I got it in my head to reach this goal: I'm not being paid and no one's checking up on me.

All I can say is that when I've gone a day or two without writing, I get antsy, like something's missing. Writing drives and pesters me, hangs around in my head constantly. I believe it's God's purpose for me, and over and over He points and prods me toward it. But what's the purpose - the destination ... or the journey?

Oswald Chambers put eloquent words to this journey of purpose.

We should never have the thought that our dreams of success are God's purpose for us. In fact, His purpose may be exactly the opposite. What is my vision of God's purpose for me? Whatever it may be, His purpose is for me to depend on Him now. If I can stay calm and faithful, the goal of the purpose of God is being accomplished in me. What He desires for me is that I see "Him walking on the sea" [see Mark 6:45-52] with no shore, no success, nor goal in sight, but simply having the absolute certainty that everything is all right because I see "Him walking on the sea." It is the process, not the outcome, that is glorifying to God.       
                     ~ My Utmost for His Highest, from July 28, by Oswald Chambers

Whether or not I reach 200 posts by December 31 is irrelevant. Ultimately, my real purpose is to see God and depend on Him for today.

different drummer

There are those who will call you a recluse -

but it is better to listen to your own different drummer

than to go through life with a ringing in your ears.

- William Safire

It's almost 11:30 p.m. and I'm yawning as I type.

I very nearly skipped today's post. Distressing!

My goal is every day in November. 

I just opened emails from two friends who said, "I love reading your blog!"
(Thank you, Kelsie and Kathleen.) 

We writers can be a pitiful lot. It isn't a matter of liking to write, or dabbling at writing.

Rather it is, for me at least, that we must write. Even when the hour is late and the eyes droop.

If there is a thought to express, it is akin to a caged animal and absolutely must get out. 

Writing is also like an old rusty pump. Once primed, the words flow with less and less resistance.

It would be a lot easier not to write, but writers must write.

When doubt creeps in and I begin to wonder what - and why - in the world I'm doing,

spending time pecking out little blog posts for a handful of people to read,

God prompts a friend to say, "thank you! I like your stuff."

And it spurs a weary writer on for another day.

gratitude challenge day 14 - Readers of my writing and words of encouragement:

for these I am thankful! 

  

just did it

Happy Friday! Happy article! Yes, I got it done, just awaiting some in-house editing. It was a quite a task. If you enjoy good writing, thank a writer!

Have a great Labor Day weekend, everyone!