These past four years
Perhaps she was remembering the years that brought her to this place.
Her Papa moved the family to
Her older brother was quite the fiddle player and she looked forward to Saturday nights when his little dance band would be invited to a local grange hall or school.
After several years of barely surviving, the family moved to the west side of the
A lovely young single woman was exactly what was required for a one-room schoolhouse in the small farming community of
However, she and her handsome beau snuck away the day after school was out and drove hours away to
About this time, Clarence accepted an offer to join the growing work crew hired to build the Grand Coulee Dam on the
Camp started out with a fire and a pot of beans that stewed the entire outing. Beans and biscuits for breakfast. Beans, fresh bread and potatoes for lunch. Beans, fresh trout, and a vegetable packed neatly in one of her boxes for dinner. She would take the kids into the hillside and pick wild strawberries that she served miraculously with whip cream after the other tins were cleaned up. They didn't know how she did it.
She returned to teaching when the kids grew older. After losing her dear Clarence in 1965 she felt there was nothing left for her in
Her loved ones all own a hand-made
The great grandchildren only know her as a small and fragile woman with soft hands that stroked their heads with a glance of longing.
As we sat in the funeral home several weeks ago to say goodbye to the hubby's step grandmother I watched a little curly haired sprite sneak out of the mourner's room to stand beneath a lovely spray of roses. The little girl stretched up on her tippy toes, first to touch the red bud, then to pull it closer to her nose to take a sniff.
I imagined Ada would be smiling.
Your New Year's Resolutions
1) Get a pet hedgehog
2) Eat less onions
3) Travel to Korea
4) Study cannibal cultures
5) Get in shape with capoeira
Heather Goodman over at L'Chaim mentioned today that she had never seen an Angel.
"I've heard they're pretty scary warriors with the glory of the Lord accompanying them sometimes, which always inspires fear. Either that, or they come to tell you your pregnant. So I'm okay with not seeing them for now."
I giggled over the pregnant part of her statement.
Then I recalled the conversation I had with my sister Sandra earlier this week. This will be her first Christmas without her husband of nearly 44 years. This summer he died in her arms.
On Thursday, she was in the card aisle of the store looking for the ideal one for her two sons and daughter. Time slipped by quickly as she read the many choices. She wanted a card that conveyed something special to each of them, as she knew they would have an empty place in their heart this holiday season.
Finally! She found the one that had the perfect sentiment. The artistry gave her comfort and the words gave eloquence to the feelings she wished to share.
An agonizing pain pierced her heart when she realized that the card was from "mom and dad."
She stood, holding it close, for a long time, unable to move from the spot, her arms refusing to return the beautiful card to its slot. Her throat became constricted and tears began to tumble over her cheeks.
"Is there something I can do for you?" a soft voice penetrated her despair.
She mentally shook herself and turned to face a stranger, a woman, who was looking at her with question and concern.
'Uh..oh...OH!" Sandra responded, feeling totally exposed and raw. "I can't give this card to my children because . . . . because my husband died and . . . this is the wrong card."
The stranger's face softened with sympathy and love. She reached out and pulled my sister into her arms giving her unspoken permission to weep in the protection of her embrace. She quietly held my sister until her composure returned.
"Thank you for listening to me blubber on," was what my sister said when all was better.
"You are welcome, and I am so sorry for your loss," the stranger answered and said her goodbyes.
During her telling of this event I was feeling angry that I hadn't been there. My sister needed me and a stranger had to do my job.
”You know,” she went on, “a friend suggested that it was like meeting with an Angel.”
My guilt disappeared in an instant.
My sister required an Angel, and I think that is exactly what she got.
Thank heaven for little girls
They grow up in the most delightful way
Those little eyes so helpless and Appealing.
crashin' thru the ceilin'
Thank heaven for little Girls
thank heaven for them alll
no matter where no matter who
what would little boys do?
Thank heaven... thank heaven...
Thank heaven for little girls!
I come from a long line of grandma's who "take in worrying for a living." (A quote from my late mother.) However, this is more.
When Goober was not quite three, I tag teamed with my daughter Jen through a weekend in Intensive Care. I know what it is like to watch a small child's stomach muscles contract in desperate attempt to expand the diaphragm and pull air into the lungs. I remember the plea's of help that came only from her eyes because the rest of her body has relinquished control to allow all energy to focus on one more breath.
Then came the relief I felt when her first little smile begat a sweet request for a drink of water.
Last night my brother Tom called to check on Goober's progress. He shared some memories of his own asthmatic childhood. Our parents would often wrap him in a blanket formed into a tent over steaming hot water. He recalls receiving his first shot of epinephrine sometime in the late 1940's.
After our conversation ended, I thought of the asthmatic children in the past with lives cut short and of children in the present who have poor or no access to medical care in third world countries.
So, on this early Saturday morning, unable to rest, I woke with Goober on my heart and a prayer on my lips: for her, for other babies who share her affliction, and for their grandmas.
It was also a prayer of thanks.
I am thankful for Hospitals. I'm thankful for ER Doctors and for Pulmonologists. I'm thankful for Respiratory Therapists, for Nurses, and for all the other technicians. I'm thankful for the cooks, the custodians, the guards and the volunteers.
I'm so far away. Those people are there.
BarnGoddess omg, iron in the fridge! once I put the magic sizing starch in the fridge when I was ironing......
swampwitch My comment is the very latest of things I put away where it didn't belong.I was so enthralled reading that you do silly things with coffee,too, I forgot where I was.
Kellie One time I found the jar of peanut butter in my laundry room cabinets. I think that might have been the work of a certain 4 year old, but i'm not sure.
Tiggerlane My cell phone has legs, I do believe. I find it in the strangest places. I actually found it in my oversized coffee cup one time - destroyed, of course
Vicki Once the cordless phone was lost. We could hear it ring but not find it. It was in the freezer next to the ice tray. ?? I told this to a lady once here at the shop, she had lost her keys (again). She said she had me beat. The day before her and her husband were in the kitchen, he opened the drawer to reach for a fork and there was a banana in there. They laughed and blamed each other. Neither remembered doing it.
Kathleen Marie Ha! Hubby recently found a bath towel in the fridge (no it was not mine) I have found the milk in the cupboard and to this day we all know 'The Ghost of Aunt Tilly did it!
Willowtree About a year ago I did something so regularly that I honestly started to get concerned. In the morning when I made coffee, I would grab the Coke instead of the milk. I would realise what I'd done only after the Coffee didn't go white, every time
local girl Remember when I wore 2 different shoes all day?
Pass the Torch I put the milk in the cupboard all the time.
Melissa Everybody in the military and their spouses have to carry a military ID card and it's in my back pocket right now. Mailing Christmas cards I mailed my ID card with the stack of cards. The postal worker who had to dig through the mail bin was not amused.
James Burnett I do have a habit (at least once a month) of misplacing the remote and finding later I've put it in the fridge, usually in the vegetable crisper. Not sure, but I think there may be something Freudian going on there.
Claudia last week, I put my wallet into someone else's photo bag. Talk about a brain fart!! but i'm always misplacing things!
Coffeypot I hate it when I am trying to find my glasses and then realize I have them on. Now how did that happen?
heather (Goodman) Man, be careful what you say on Pam's blog.
Matt Left his comment on the wrong blog ??
wolfbaby I am constantly losing my keys... i have found them in the ODDEST places...the lanundry, the door, yes looked all over the house and realized theyw ere still in the door from the night before.Jeanette
I decided to run away from home when I was about 5 years old.
My best friend Beth lived down a hill and across several acres of prime dairy farm. There were a few barbed wire fences and a herd of black and white
I threw all my earthly belongings into Moms old hat box, grasped the flimsy ribbon band like a handle, and snuck out the back door.
My escape route led beyond the back yard, past the chicken house, the fruit house, the woodshed, and the garage. A narrow path led between a wall and a sharp uphill slope to the garden.
Through the gate I pushed, and fled beneath the pink climbing rose that trailed up to the roof. I was going to miss the rose bush and the chicken house.
I hurried across the flat grassy area that was edged on one side by some old growth forest. It was very dark and scary when you were alone. The other side had low scrub trees growing on the perimeter of a steep incline that led to the “lower pasture’ and a duck pond. Sometimes it was just mud and swamp and that day was no exception.
I tumbled several times during my descent. That box was bulky and awkward for my short little arms and legs.
When I reached the pasture, I tripped over a plowed furrow and landed in the mud. The hatbox lid rolled away trailing with it my panties and socks.
Darn clothes anyway. Beth’s mom would probably take me shopping and buy me all new clothes. Most of mine were hand me downs.
By the time I reached the electric fence that separated our small farm from the dairy, the hatbox was beginning to fall to pieces. I had tears in my eyes as I propped the disintegrating package against a fence post.
Several bovine in the adjacent field became aware of my whimpers and ambled over for a closer look. It wasn’t long before the entire herd headed my way.
This was getting serious. I couldn’t go on because the cows were so big and they had tails like ropes that kept switching this way and that.
I didn’t want to go back, because I knew that there would be a switching there, too. Especially when mom saw what I had done to her hatbox.
Hence, I bent over, sobbed into my hands and hid my eyes from the staring cows and the demolished hatbox.
That’s when something touched my shoulder.
I looked up to see my brother Mike standing close with a silly grin on his face. He couldn’t help it. He just had a silly grin.
“Let me help ya!” he offered.
He gathered up scattered muddy clothes and ripped up hatbox in one arm. With his other arm, he reached out and offered me his hand. Together we started walking back across the soggy pasture towards home.
That’s when I decided I didn’t want to go live at Beth’s house after all. She didn’t have any brothers.
All Rights Reserved ©
The Dust Will Wait