the magnitude of love

She was among the least popular girls in school. Frankly, she scared us. Homely, awkward, loud, and, scariest of all, mentally challenged. The girls in my Girl Scout troop came from upper middle-class families in a small New England town. We were all well-behaved, good students and nice, normal girls.

Barbara Winkle wanted to be a part of us. Like any seventh grader, she desperately sought acceptance in a group of girls her age. But she so bothered me, rushing up like a hurricane, too close for comfort, talking loudly with a horrible head of unkempt hair, slurred speech, and bad breath.

She first introduced herself to my mother, who led our troop. "My name's Barbara Winkle! Rhymes with twinkle! I want to be a Girl Scout!"

Mom laughed and talked with Barbara as if she were the most normal kid. Didn't she bother Mom just a little bit?

I took her to task. "She's weird, Mom. Does she have to join our troop?" I couldn't imagine weekly meetings or worse - camping trips with Barbara along. What if we had to share a tent? It also bothered me that her name was the same as mine.

"Barb, she may be different and unpopular, but that's exactly why she'll be in our troop. Those who are hardest to love are the ones who need it most."

And so we reluctantly followed my mother's lead. Barbara Winkle became one of us. A sort of annoying little sister we learned to tolerate. I know I never accepted her as my mother did. At best, I ignored her.

But I can't forget the love in my mother's eyes each time Barbara came roaring in to meetings. A smile lighting her face, Mom asked, "How are you Barbara? It's so good to see you!" And they'd chat a bit like old friends.

Real love comes not in valentines, but in the hearts of those who choose to love.

the measure of love

With Valentine's Day coming up, I thought I'd write a few posts on love ...

Though our three sons have been gone for some time now, through marriage and/or jobs elsewhere, it seems I'm only now sensing a true empty nest. I became a mother over 27 years ago, and that role doesn't leave as they pack up their rooms.

Letting go isn't so neat and tidy. In the ten years since our oldest left for college, call me slow, but I think I've only been rehearsing for the empty nest. These years, I've decided, don't really count.

Anyway, it's cool how God delivers the tiniest message of reassurance that He understands. This week I received a card in the mail in which the sender referred to one of my children. It ended with, "you did good." Just three little words that serve as a powerful reminder that most of my job as mother is over.

Too, those words encourage me that the sacrifice, sweat, tears and broken bones (I once broke my arm for one of my kids) of motherhood have ended well. Not perfectly, but well. And accomplished by the wisdom and grace of almighty God who loaned me my four children for a time.

The fact is, I can't sit on my mom emotions as I would a bulging suitcase, hoping to snap it shut. My overwhelming feelings pop out in my thoughts, words and actions from time to time. As Elisabeth Elliot so aptly put it, "emotions are the most unreliable things in the world."

So. I let go not because I want to or feel like it or hope to feel good about it. I do it as a matter of the will. We raised these children as best we could and now release them, like it or not. I hope that someday, as my kids release their own children, they will know the measure of their love by how hard it is to let go.

They may have packed up their rooms, but I'm finding it harder to pack up my heart.

February projects

FEBRUARY!

Considering the outrageous ice, relentless snow and plunging cold,

it's a great time for clearing bookshelves, drawers and closets.

That's exactly what I'm presently doing.

In fact if you ask my hubby, he might say I'm a bit obsessed. Boo.

How many coffee mugs does one family need?

Not as many as we had so I let go of a few.

Glasses and jars - no longer at risk of an avalanche!

And the (usually) ever-cluttered phone counter

is clean as a whistle.

Well, as clean as it's gonna get around here.

I've got a couple of other projects on the burner, so stay tuned.

Got any winter projects in progress?

happy birthday Mark!

My son Mark is turning 23 today.

I see him as:

A loving and devoted husband to Jill.                      

Uncle to Ari (well of course I had

to throw that in!)

Possessing great independence,

resourcefulness, and motivation.

Seeker of God's purposes.

One who cares about and invests in people.                                                             

An incredibly hard worker.

Has made his dad and me mighty proud.

With lots of love, for a

happy birthday, Mark!

                             

Mark and Jill on their graduation day at Miami University, May 2010.

(Though it felt like November.)

Excuse the formatting ... I give up!

after the storm

didn't mean it!

I take it back, February. You packed a wallop and you win! Inch-thick ice, huge limbs brought down, and our street transformed into a skating rink. Throughout Tuesday night we were awakened by ice crashing on our roof as the wind loosened ice from the trees. Eerie.

Rough day yesterday. We had no power for about 14 hours; other parts of town even longer. The house grew chilly but thanks to our gas stove, I was able to heat soup and make tea.

It's strange. By last night, I was exhausted. How is doing nothing - except trying to keep warm all day - so exhausting?

Thickness of the ice brought by the storm.

Our maple took a hard hit; not sure of its future.
My son Dan said, "I remember when that tree was a twig!"

It's ok, February.
We don't need any encores.

bring it on, February

Why, what's the matter,

That you have such a February face,

So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness.

- William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing