Cemeteries, Sunshine and A Toy School Bus

For the past few years Memorial Day has meant a day of honoring my mother.  You see, she is "old school"  about it and likes to spend it in the cemetery (or cemeteries), honoring her loved ones.  She grew up going on family picnics on Memorial Day to the cemetery, and the whole family would place flowers at the graves of loved ones and spend the time cleaning off the headstones, pulling weeds, etc.  It was their way of showing respect and remembering loved ones.


Since my dad passed away 6 years ago, we have joined with her and my sister in making the 2 hour trek to a tiny cemetery in the hills above our little "home town", bringing flowers to my dad's grave and those of several other family members.  It's usually a cold, grey experience--it is Oregon after all.   We usually take a picnic and sometimes meet up with my brother & sister-in-law.  The kids are so sweet and take an exceptional interest in the experience.  As solemn a task as it can be, they have great attitudes.  The thing is, it is not exactly my husband's favorite thing to do.  He uses a rare day off of work to drive 4 hours round trip for a 20 minute  experience of placing flowers at the grave of someone who--quite frankly--couldn't care less about the flowers on his grave.  (I feel horrible saying this--please don't misunderstand.  We love my dad, but he is in heaven now and I don't think this is a huge deal for him.)  My husband doesn't complain, but I know what he's thinking.  He is very supportive of the ordeal because he cares about my mom too.  We do it not only to remember my dad, but to honor my mom. 


But this year we did something different.  We had the opportunity to go to the beach today.  But with how heavy our schedule has been, we didn't feel we could do the beach today, church tomorrow and the 5-6 hour cemetery trip on Monday.    A choice would have to be made and I automatically threw out the beach trip  because Monday seemed non-negotiable. 

But you know, it hit me.  Maybe this year, I could bless my husband.  Maybe it was time to celebrate life.  I emailed my sister and told her we'd love to do the beach if mom would go too, but that would mean we'd skip the cemetery this year.  Amazingly, my mom understood.  She agreed to come along to the beach, and so it was settled.

We played in the sand--in the sun.  It was gorgeously warm.  Our family got to be together in a joyous setting with laughter and play.  I would not trade this day for a thousand roses at my dad's grave.    The funny thing is, I found a little toy school bus at a gift shop and I purchased it for my two year old.  My dad was a school bus driver as a bi-vocational pastor.  He adored that job because of the kids.  He always had a million stories to tell about his experiences.  I think that he would have been pleased that this little grandson, whom he hasn't yet met, went to the beach today with grandma and came away with a toy school bus.  I think that this year, that bus is my bouquet for my dad; given instead to my son.  I'm certain my dad would approve.  

I'm At It Again

"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

I'm thinking too far down the road again.  When I do that, I get myself into trouble.  It's not necessarily trouble that any of you could detect.  It's more of an anxiousness that eats at me.  I can easily get myself into a tizzy at how things are versus what I think they should be.  I've caught it building and building the last couple of days, and soon I won't be able to handle the tension I've created for myself so I will have to let it out with trying to fix things on my own.

It's not like it's that far down the road either.  Really.  Kind of.  I mean.  Next school year isn't so far away (as much as I'd like to think it is), so I should have a plan for my kids.  And then there is: who will rent our house come August?  Oh, and isn't it time to start work on a second adoption before our littlest grows up and I'm in dentures?  And that will mean we need a car that seats eight. (We literally just paid off the one we have.)  And: Wow, our oldest daughter turns 16 next year---sure would be nice to have a house that could accommodate a "friend party" if we wanted.   And what about a bathtub?  The little guy is about to outgrow the kitchen sink.....  Yep, It's all up there.  In my head.  Right now.  Making me anxious and crabby and just a little wacky.  Struggling to give it to the One who can do anything about any of this.

As many of you know, our church just had it's very first ladies' retreat.  And having the budget that we do, I was asked to do the first session.   The subject of the retreat was on prayer.  And as many of you gathered from my facebook posts, it was a challenge for me to compile my thoughts into an outline and verbally share them.  God was faithful and helped it to come together, and by His grace, I think my session went OK.  But what is funny is that my friend and pastor's wife, Laura, warned me.  She warned me that when you teach on something, to be careful, because quite often God chooses to challenge you in that area.  Well, Laura, you are so right!

 I am so caught up right now in MY timeline and MY dreams, that I am starting to look anxiously about me.  I want to jump in and get everything on track for MY plans to work out.  But I know this isn't how it should be.   God says that He wants me to cast my cares on Him.  He wants to bear my burdens.  HE has plans for me and I need to rest in them and wait on Him.  "Preach it to yourself, Girl!" I'm telling myself. And so I will:

Isaiah 41:10 "Do not fear for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you, surely I will help you.  Surely, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand."

The Hall of Sin

We have a back hallway that runs from the kitchen to our pantry and back bathroom and around to our living room.  It has seen episodes of sneakiness before, but today it was the scene of two crimes--in a row.  My youngest somehow managed to pull a pitcher of Crystal Lite off the counter without spilling it and carried it into the back hall--you know, where the carpet is?  He raided the dishwasher for a cup and poured most of the contents onto the carpet, before being discovered.  I finished cleaning up that mess and moved on to my laundry.  For some reason I made another lap through that back hallway in time to find my little wonder boy into a bottle of cornflower blue food coloring. A lot of it!  Despite the fact that BOTH he and I have blue hands now, at least the carpet was mostly spared.  Let's just say that "cornflower blue" on skin translates into "hideous-bruise-what-happened-to-you?"looking blue.   Wonder Boy is now in bed.   And I am left wondering how to get this off us both before we are due at Parent Night at the school in 2 hours.