Favorites

One thing I love about Lanie, with the exception of Gulliver's Travels, nearly every literature book she's read has been her favorite. I love that every new story ignites a love in her heart. One time when she was in elementary school, she insisted I read Treasures of the Snow by Patricia St. John. I ended up loving the story too. She's made a list of books she wants me to read, books that have made an impression on her and she wants to share with me. I hope to finish the list.

Erin also has favorites, but in a different way. She loves Harry Potter books. We started with checking them out from the library, to watching movies, to her getting the full set of books and movies for Christmas. But there's one book from the library that she has checked out several times. (I just ordered it off of Abe Books.) She asked me to read it a long time ago, and I never got around to it. But this month, I made time. I read it over the weekend last weekend. And as I wrapped up the last chapter, I sat on the couch and cried. I cried for the story. I cried for its truth. I cried for my daughter and this glimpse into her heart. 

Eventown by Corey Ann Hadu. 

We can forget it all, if we want.

"Yeah," I say. "We don't need to talk about where we used to live. We don't live there anymore."

"Good," Betsy says, smiling.

"Good," Naomi says.

And it is. (page 64. And if you know me, you know this is loaded.)

And

But memory is like that, I guess. Not quite the same as it was when it was alive and happening. Delicate. Something you have to care for, tend to, love gently, and hang on to as hard as you can. (page 316)

I think long on memories. Shocked at how much I forget. At what I can't forget. What I will away. Sometimes it's like opening my hands and letting them all fly away.

It's good to ask people what their favorite books are or what they'd recommend. 

Books I can no longer read: Anne of Green Gables or Little Women. 

One I love: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

And still counting ... (15,181-15,246)

 frozen blueberries in my morning yogurt after a hot run, a 3-miler turned 5 because I could, grasses cut, red geraniums, a new cookbook (Run Fast, Cook Fast, Eat Slow)

Lanie passing the driver's test, this old house, shelter and safety in the tornado warning, things treasured in hand (for one a bag of music and her math books, another her baby blankets, and I put on my running shoes--but the realization that all the stuff is just stuff), good coffee

making plans for chocolate frogs, Nadine, Amy D, Jackie, Michi

Amy T, Jen, Mandy, Kellie, Nora

big band aids, yoga, azaleas in bloom, new co-ops, the teen room

time at the table over iced tea with Jackie, that another invites me into her private fears for prayer, Christy who called me on her commute because it's been too long since we've talked, for RSVPs to a special day that remind Lanie she is loved and not alone, presence

yoga flow, a rest day, books in the mail, her recital dress in the mail, how she looked when she put it on--beautiful 

a card from Marshall's Mom on Mother's Day, better run times, weekend naps--I will never not appreciate a good nap, a neighbor who is fun at heart, the AI on YouTube that picked a playlist I adore

Sunday pizza, a good honey mustard marinade, Nadine's text to see if we're going to be there, all the ladies at Lanie's church who love on her, safe travels as she drives off solo

Connie, Val, Tracey, Anita, Marshall's Mom

sunshine, birds at the feeders, birdsong before sunrise, a husband who blows down the driveway for my run, new friends who "get it" 

a hiking plan with Sharon, recorder practice in the driveway with Erin, running in allergy season, Ruth, the writers on 66 Books

books on the enneagram, food in the fridge, books from the library, ice water, fleece blankets

banana mochis

 

On Mother's day

 On this Mother's Day, I am thankful for the women in my daughter's life. Lanie has had the wonderful experience of women who have tutored, mentored and loved her in her life.

Miss Jill was one of the first to launch Lanie in a love of math. Maybe even Miss Jen before that. And certainly now, Mrs. Flynn who has earned Lanie's deep love and appreciation.

Miss Joanne was an instrumental teacher--literally and figuratively--with piano instruction. Joanne created a scholarship for one lucky student each year, and Lanie worked hard to get her attention. She got the scholarship based on merit. Joanne was also a key mentor in guiding Lanie to further instruction under Dr. Kreider and recommended Lanie for her first job as a church pianist. Joanne has always made time for Lanie when she needed help or advice.

Anita has always been like a grandmother to my kids. She has never forgotten a birthday and has made every effort to attend any dance or music performances. 

Denise has been a forever friend to me and my kids. When the girls were younger, Denise was often by their side playing or coloring. She thinks of my kids and always selects the most thoughtful gifts. Denise has spent all sorts of holidays with us, and regular days. She is a model of loyal friendship and kindness.

Christy has loved on my kids ever since our daughters met in their first dance class. We've been moms together from first days of school to these last--and now our daughters are heading off to college. I am thankful for Christy who stepped up to be a sister to me in those years of raising them. 

The women at Lanie's church are like a grandmothers' network of love. Miss Kate, Miss Judy, the late Miss Doris, both of the Ruths, Miss Cindy, Miss Joy, Miss Donna, Miss Cindy (the other one)--they love her. They see her. They speak encouragement into her life. And on a recent call, Miss Judy told me how she is so impressed by Lanie--and wouldn't miss being in the audience of her performance. 

Truly, when I think of mothers, I think of women like each one of these, who invest their time, hearts, talents, and words. They are a powerful force. Oh, if being a mother was just up to me, how I would fall short--but together, we are so strong. These women walk alongside me to bolster a next generation. And I'm sure ours are not the only lives they've touched. 

This is legacy.

Day story

 May 2021

Outside my window, sunrise. Azaleas in bloom. A mulched garden, finally under control after years of neglect. Now for the rock garden that has already captured a section of fencing. There is poison ivy back there too. Ugh. Red geraniums ready for window boxes. When everything about the world seems upside down, I am grateful for one place that finally seems righted, back the way it should be. Peace. Order. Beauty. Simplicity.

And I quote, "This is so boring! How do people live with themselves?" Lanie is finishing up American history. She's in the final stretch of the school year. I walked in to get my coffee and she exclaimed this, and I laughed. I have to agree though, some history books are so absolutely boring. Susan Wise Bauer, why could you not have done an American history series? We always loved your books.

Giving thanks for fullness. I wished a brother-figure happy birthday, and he commented that he hoped I wasn't as busy anymore (he remembers the hard hectic of a time). And I smile now, because I am still busy, but with all the things that matter. The things that fill my heart. Busy making plans for her recital--the shoes, the dress, the invitations, the food, the program. Busy making plans for Erin's first year of high school. Busy taking back the yard and my home--and making progress. Busy reconnecting with friends and making new friends. I felt like a hermit crab tucked tight in a shell, guarded and hidden. And now forced out of a shell that no longer fits--I feel adventurous--and vulnerable.

In the school room, I'm getting my head around our plans for a next year. Homeschooling mom of one. A friend over for iced tea while our middles hung out and her littles played outside and inside. There are Barbie cars in the school room with a wild party of Barbie dolls spilling out through convertible rooftops. She asked me if I wanted to swap subjects--if I would take her daughter for literature and she could take mine for another subject. I think on it and the possibilities. But mostly, the thoughts are underscored with a gratitude that she would offer, willingly, to pour into my kid's life too. So far, undecided on plans. This is that part of hermitting--the vulnerable emerging and the uncertainty. 

From the kitchen, inspired by athletes who speak of plant-based, whole foods, I did a library search with the terms and checked out at least ten cookbooks--then ordered two of the bunch through Abe Books. Forks Over Knives Family by Pulde and Lederman, and Run Fast, Cook Fast, Eat Slow by Flanagan and Kopecky. They are the inspiration for menus this week and next. RFCFES is not strictly plant based. We were fed for two nights with "Eat the Rainbow Stir-Fry" (p142) and an accompanying sauce "Creamy Ginger Cashew Sauce" (p 180). I bought beets to make a suggested smoothie. Though not sold completely on the thought, I'm willing to try it.

I am repiecing the pieces. Restoring the spaces here--the gardens and flowers especially. Revisiting hospitality--and it feels a bit painful to open these doors again, to open this heart. But the returning friends are safe. And the new friends, well, time will tell. I struggle with Christians and Christianity, and not at all because of Christ. I feel the secular is more willing to accept and welcome than some of those who claim Christ as their savior. This is hard to explain to my kids, how the Christian community (especially the Super Christians) can be shunning when they are supposed to be known by their love. And yet in secular spaces, we have literally been embraced and felt the love of Christ in nomad Christians living as outliers of the bubble. Why does Christ feel so much more accessible there? Ah, this is a much bigger issue that teeters at the canyon's edge.

I don't want to forget that there is still time. I feel a sweet ache looking back at pictures of my kids from not even that long ago, missing little hands to hold, missing cartoon shows together, missing the delight of lightning bugs and running through the field. But there is still time. We are together. And summer is coming. There is music to make, still. And there is fun to be had, still. And while we are all growing and changing, there is still time and we will grow and change together in the journey. I have always loved being a mom. I will always cherish the time of having been a stay-at-home and homeschool mom. Never a regret at choosing that life. In hindsight, maybe some things differently, but I'd never change the decision to stay home with them.

I am reading Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. I've checked it out from the library so many times and never got around to reading it, that I just decided to get my own copy. Also reading The Hole in Our Gospel by Richard Stearns, and the just-arrived-by-mail The Path Between Us by Suzanne Stable.

Around the house, paint touch ups. Laundry. Yard. I'm staying in a little more these days because oak pollen is out of control and it does me in. Hoping Shane will blow down the driveway and patio so I can go outside. Definitely feeling the pollen on the run. I am now almost three minutes slower that my time last fall before the injury. I had been making progress to reclaim ground and fitness, and while I have recovered the distance, this past month, I'm actually adding time. It's frustrating.

I value authenticity. I'm so very thankful for this home and our kitchen table. I'm thankful for the friends who've sat with me. Texting with a long-time friend I haven't seen in years, we are trying to make a plan in the nearish future. She is also graduating her first, and she confided she's full of tears. I felt such a relief in her honesty, vulnerability, and expression of deep emotion at a passing season--while I'm excited for Lanie and her future and all the good things on the horizon, a part of me grieves the passing of a season that went way too fast.

On the letterboard, "If we burn, you burn with us." Name that film (It's in the book too--which was on a list of banned books, though I can't imagine why. "The reason for this [banning] stated: 'They were banned due to insensitivity, offensive language, violence, anti-family, anti-ethic and occult/satanic.' In 2014, the novel was also banned for reasons of inserted religious perspective." I guess I somehow missed the anti-family, religious and occult stuff--even after reading the series twice and watching the movies so many times I've lost count. Also, a dear, sweet, meek Christian mom's daughter recommended the series to me, which is the only reason I had ever heard of it. Because apparently I live under a rock.).

I am hearing spring bird song. We have wind chimes hanging in the cherry tree. And bird feeders in the front and back yards. Lots of cardinals this year. And lots of song.

A view of my favorite things:

One of my favorite reads of the year

video project with Erin

roots

Roger that.

We got four pillows.

I volunteer as tribute!

She passed!

Yeah, about that ...

Hahaha! And, yes!

The frozen blues! Like heaven after a hot run.

Barbie cars

xoxo

 

At the table, Shane's birthday is coming. I'm so thankful for him and the life we have together.