A Connection to my Grandfather

On our recent trip to Taos, we stopped at a Texas rest area just outside the OK-TX border.  I took the camera with me, not even sure why.  I'm sure glad I did.  Inside the ladies room the walls were tiled with an interesting mosaic of the North Texas landscape.

The tile work triggered a special memory of my grandfather.  He and my great uncle designed a number of buildings on the University of Wyoming campus and one in particular has a special place in our family's lore.  The story goes that the inspiration for the Classroom Building came from one of my mom's casserole dishes.  The exterior of the building is quite stunning and for its time was forward thinking in the amenities for classroom instruction.

UW Classroom Building (center) - Photo courtesy Wyoming_Jackrabbit
via  Creative Commons copyright

My grandfather and great uncle envisioned four mosaics in each of the directional corners to represent the state of Wyoming.  Each mosaic was designed by an art professor at the university.  As a little girl I remember my grandpa sharing about the project at their dinner table and I remember seeing the mosaics for the first time.  The building was dedicated in 1971 and underwent significant renovations in 2007 to bring it to current standards.

Several years ago at the suggestion of one of my husband's friends, B and I got copies of the architectural plans from the UW archives (American Heritage Center) and put together a beautiful remembrance for my mom and dad.  We spent several hours looking through boxes and settled on a few drawings.  It was a sweet treat to watch B in the archives, a place where he's spent many hours.

Here is a picture of my dad after opening the Christmas gift.  I know that gift touched a deep place in his heart that day.

4 pairs of gloves

Somehow I ended up with four pairs of gloves on our trip to Taos. I needed ski gloves and wanted a pair of light gloves in case it was too warm. I also wanted my driving gloves and on the first day I found a pair of gloves in my pockets. So between the two of us, B and I had maybe 9 pairs.

At first this felt very uncomfortable to me and a bit extravagant. Perhaps it is, as I am well aware that many people have no gloves.

I could feel myself tensing up and becoming critical toward myself and toward B. I realized something, though, as I started listening to my thoughts. I realized that the four gloves are kinda how we live life right now. It works for us and when we let go of how we "should" be living, we are more comfortable with how we are living.  We are at peace and more open to others. No justifications, no defensiveness, no comparisons, just our delightful selves.

Today's Smiles

* Venti half-caff one-percent latte

* Lunch with my best friend who happens to be my husband

* An email from my mother-in-law about her great visit with one of her grandchildren (one of my nieces)

* Nuzzling with my kitty, Molly

* Looking out my front window at our beautiful daffodils and pansies

Happy Spring from Oklahoma

   

 

Waiting for me...

When my husband calls from our home phone this is the image that displays on my phone.  It makes me smile.

When I leave in the morning I see a similar pose when I look back at the house.  This view breaks my heart, but the good news is I often see this pose when I pull into the driveway.  Usually she's sitting on the couch and then jumps up when she sees the lights of the car.

As soon as I open the front door her wiggly body makes it clear she's glad I'm home.

I'm glad, too.

Second Blessing

I hand wrote a blog entry about Abbie back in the spring of 2008 about 8 months after Alafair died.  I found it the other day and decided today seemed the perfect day.  :)

~*~

I've been wanting to post this story on my blog for awhile and today seems the perfect day.  Both B and I feel a lot of sadness over missing our Alafair.  Although we think of her daily, the tears are not as frequent.  For whatever reason we miss her very much today.

Earlier this year over New Year's weekend two of our nieces and my in-laws came for visit.  During a conversation with the 16 year old, she asked why we named our newest addition "Abbie".  

Our Abbie -
taken Jan 1, 2012

Abbie came to us named "Maggie", but one day shortly after we adopted her from Second Chance, I was hugging on her and talking to her.  I accidentally called her "Abbie" without even thinking.  After the words passed my lips tears unexpectedly welled up in my eyes.  The name seemed a perfect fit. 

I told my niece this story and she said the sweetest thing.  She had wondered if we named her Abbie because the name means "Blessing" and she saw Abbie as being a "second" blessing to us.

The thing is Abbie has been so good for us since the first day we adopted her just a few weeks before Alafair died.  When Alafair was so sick Abbie would do something to make us smile.  And after we said our goodbyes once again Abbie helped us get through those initial heart breaking days.

She loves us and we love her.  Abbie truly is a "second" blessing.

 ~*~

As I complete the finishing touches on the blog entry, my Abbie is sleeping right next to me on the couch with her head touching my thigh.  Yes, she is an Abbie.

The Sound of Music

Of late I've found myself listening to George Winston's December in the early pre-dawn hours.  Waking about 3am racing thoughts of incomplete projects and open issues swirl around my brain.  Listening to these piano compositions slow my heart rate and calm my thoughts.  Usually I fall back to sleep during the opening track entitled, "Thanksgiving."

I first heard the album in 1982 while studying in the Music Lounge during my freshman year of college.  Several years later we bought cassette tape and eventually the CD.  Fast forward to 2006 and the music found its way onto my first iPod, but remained unplayed for many years.

I'm not sure what prompted me to call up the album recently.  Of late I've discovered that music infused with piano leaves tracks of something good in me.  My husband and I recently heard Jimmy Webb play his original compositions on a huge grand piano in a 100 seat venue.  At times tears welled in my eyes from an unknown place.

As I've been musing about this, I remembered that most afternoons while growing up my mom played our piano for an hour or so before starting dinner.  I expect this was something she did even before she and Dad married.  I can't help but wonder if since my conception piano instrumentals have been part of me.  Who knows and in some ways it doesn't matter.  I just know that this sound of music is delicate and tender in my soul.

Our Loyal Streak

I've been needing and wanting to write this blog entry since we said our last goodbyes to our faithful and devoted Streak.  It still hurts very much when I reflect on his last 7 months after we discovered he had lymphoma.  At the time he was still strong and had much life for a 13 year old.  He still wanted to be with us and none of us were ready to say goodbye.  But by the time of his last treatment 8 months later we knew it was time and Streak let us know as well.

A good friend of mine shared something that comforted me during Streak's last year.  She said Streak had a God appointed job to be with us.  His job was to be fearlessly loyal from the first day he came to us to his last and Streak did just that especially with Brad.  He was appointed to be Brad's guardian.  To bring Brad life and to bring him healing.  To be his companion and to demonstrate loyalty and devotion.

One of my favorite memories is seeing Streak and Brad as they walked up the stone path we laid in memory of our Alafair.  Streak would be right next to Brad as they walked to the house.  Another special memory is of Streak wanting to be with Brad after he finished breakfast.  After his last bite he would trot back to the bedroom and wait for me to open the bedroom door.  Up on the bed, he would jump and most times snuggle in next to Brad; always close and always there.

We called Streak "our sentry".  When we let him outside he took several laps around the yard, not playful but very deliberate and dutiful.  Once secured then it seemed he relaxed.  Streak is the first dog I ever saw smile (or that I realized smiled) ~ His eyes bright, ears high on his head, tongue visible with his cheeks pulled back to his ears.

Our last day with Streak was April 7.  It was a Thursday.  A week earlier we realized that an additional treatment would be too much for our little buddy.  Reconciling to that reality was hard, but we knew the time was coming.  His breathing seemed labored and his panting more frequent.  We could tell the pain in his eyes had intensified.  On Wednesday night we decided it was time and we would take him to the vet in the morning.  That night I slept at the foot of the bed with him.  I wanted to be close and to comfort him, pet him, and talk to him.

Without a doubt Streak completed his appointed purpose on this earth and in his death he gave us two gifts.  He gave us back our memories of Alafair and delivered us our sweet Grace.

July 2007 - Alafair, me, and Streak

In retrospect neither Brad nor I really worked through losing Alafair.  Her last days were so unexpected and so, so painful.  When we needed to put her down it was too painful and neither of us could be there.  Deep down I always felt I'd let her down.  I decided with Streak that no matter how painful that I would be with him through the end.  Brad and I both stayed with him and as it turns out it was peaceful, sacred, not scary.  I stayed a few moments alone with Streak.  I bent down, kissed his muzzle and then whispered in his ear to tell Alafair that I was so very, very sorry and that I loved her and missed her.  Tears rolled down my checks and I said goodbye.  The next morning for the first time since Alafair died in 2007, I looked at pictures of her and watched several videos.  Hearing her bark and watching her play with Streak was so tenderly sweet.

A week or so after Streak died Brad's Mom called and said her friend's daughter wanted to give us a Border Collie.  She heard about our Streak, never met him but knew how much he meant to us.  During the conversation my mother-in-law mentioned that if we didn't want the puppy that she might take it.  She'd been thinking about adding a dog to their family, too.  Brad and I talked about it but decided it was too soon.  So Brad called to say we would pass.  Turns out they were offering two puppies: one for Brad's Mom and Dad, and one for us.  At this point we knew it was meant to be.  Three weeks later we drove to Colorado to meet our new puppy.  We named her Grace.

So Streak knew better than we did.  He knew we needed Grace.  He knew the grief would be too much.  He knew we need not hang onto regrets and we needed to receive forgiveness.  He hung on through the treatments to the most perfect day when we all could say our earthly goodbyes and then soon would be able to welcome another bundle of puppy joy into our home.

Streak, thank you for loving us.

Thank you for your loyalty and devotion.

Thank you for being Brad's friend and companion.  

Thank you for getting us out to meet our neighbors

and teaching us to appreciate and enjoy the little things

especially puppy smiles.

We miss you dearly.

Storms

Many storms have come and gone, but weathered still.  Some brought high winds, lots of rain.  Others brought parched conditions, lack of rain.  Stressed, yes, but not defeated.  Broken limbs, some quite large and yet the trunk remains rooted and strong.

But this most recent storm feels more than I can bear.  My limbs are burdened by inches and inches of thick ice.  Their weight so heavy;  I hear and feel it.  Tears fall and cries speak, "It is too much; too much to bear and too much to endure." The wind howls; the sun nowhere to be seen.  The days are cold.  Hope seems so far away and a thing of the distant past.  I wonder if I will survive this time in tact.  In the middle of the storm it's hard to remember or to hope this is only a season.

Though as I write these words I remember I am still standing, still firmly grounded and deeply rooted. This is my truth, my reality, but difficult to remember for also in my present reality my own branches creak and crack.  Some break and fall to the ground.

My consolation today is our beautiful maple tree.  It has lost many branches, yet continues to endure the many, many Oklahoma storms and remains grounded and rooted.  Its colors beautiful again this year.

Blessed are those who delight in the law of the LORD 

and meditate on His law day and night.  

They are like a tree planted by streams of water which yields its fruit in season 

and whose leaf does not wither.

Psalm 1:2-3  

Our Maple - 2011

A Cup of Tea

One evening recently I wrote the words, "I choose you!" at the top of my journal. Earlier that day I'd been writing about a difficult experience during an otherwise great visit with my two sisters this summer. A question came from a tender place.

"Would my sister choose me?"

Some history is needed to put this in context. Sometimes I struggle to believe and to trust my sisters' love for me. Most of the time I know it, but invariably when all three of us get together an old familiar pattern gets triggered and I lose hold. Old feelings of being on the outside and never in the "inner circle" drift in and stay.

As I let the question linger for awhile, a memory came back when I was a little girl. One of my sisters had a secret club with a close friend of hers. They had a special box, a special language, and even a special password. Their creativity was quite impressive and they had a blast playing together. One day I asked if I could be in the club. Sadly, the answer back was "No". I'm sure my little heart was completely broken. As an adult I understand the dynamic and impulse between siblings, but that little girl in me still hurt very much.

A bit later that day while pondering this memory, I saw a picture of myself as a little girl and with no one to share her tea. I hurt for her broken heart and for the seeds of rejection that often get planted at a young vulnerable age. I felt much compassion for her. I imagined going up to her and saying, "Hello there. What'cha doing?" She looked up shyly and I asked if I could share a cup of tea. She smiled and immediately poured the invisible tea into our tea cups.

"This is a very pretty tea set." She smiled again and showed me the beautiful flowers on the cups and saucers. I find her completely delightful as I sit in the tiny chair holding the tiny cup from the tiny tea set. "This tea is fabulous. May I have more?" and she asks, "Would you like some cookies, too?" We talk a bit and I ask more questions and then she begins to chat on and on as little kids do carrying on a one-way conversation that I don't completely follow. It was delightful. She was delightful.

*~*

In the course of working through our difficulty, my sisters asked me something that in some ways startled me. They asked me to trust that they love me. Years ago a dear friend told me something I've never forgotten. We were walking through a rough patch and I wanted to pull back and retreat into a protective shell. At some point she said, "I trust the God in you". Her words conveyed to me that she trusted the God I knew and she trusted His working in my life. It meant so much to me that she was not going to leave our friendship.

Parts of me wanted to pull away and question my sisters' commitment and love. My pattern is to choose this path, but for some reason I didn't take it this time. I rehearsed over and over again during the sleepless night that my sisters both love me and are committed to me. I could see each of their faces saying these words and I clung to this during the struggle.

Maybe I won a battle that night as I chose to resist the temptation to disbelieve their commitment. Perhaps maybe in this sleepless night I believed I too am worth choosing.

*~*

Never will I leave you;

never will I forsake you.

Hebrews 13:5

UPDATE: Yesterday, I shared my blog post with a dear friend and she later posted the tea set photo on her Facebook with the words, "Tea anyone? Lisa?". Brought joy to my heart, so I had to attach to the blog post. She took this photo at a tea party with her granddaughter who supplied the bunny crackers and gummy bunnies.