Let the Wind blow

 Dear Emily,

What a year this has been!  We have learned so much  . . .  about what we

don't know, what we can't do, and where we aren't supposed to go.  This 

week our family of 17 has to miss our daughter's wedding in New York.  

NOT because New York isn't safe, but because our little state has increasing 

cases of the plague.  Many tears have been shed,  but our love is abundant 

and will not be confined to our physical presence.

We are, after all, spiritual creatures.  We don't know which way the Wind 

blows, but we know that He is full of Love and able to carry ours across 

state lines.  In my imagination, He is the Farmer who plucks us, the 

dandelions, from the fertile soil and blows our fuzzy seeds thousands of 

miles to our daughter who will plant them in the garden of her heart for 

a future day when we can be together and celebrate.

We are, also, abundantly grateful that most of our loved ones and friends 

have escaped the virus.  We have learned how to safely be with our children

who live near us and are no longer afraid to smooch and snuggle with our

beloved grandchildren. Our prayers are for those who are gravely ill, those 

who have lost loved ones, and our mayors,  governors, and president who 

must make impossible decisions about life and liberty.

Love,

Lea

"The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it but do not

know where it comes from and where it is going; so is every one who is

born of the Spirit."  John 3:8

To Linger

Dear Emily,

What does it mean to linger?  The dictionary says it is to be
slow to part.  I love that.  In this time of waiting out the 'walrus'
(our 2 1/2 year old grand daughter calls this the cowonawalrus,)
I find myself longing to linger near those I'm not allowed to be
near.

When I say, "goodbye" to grandchildren that I can't hug or kiss,
that parting is full sorrow.

My hope is that soon this ole' walrus will burn off.  Until then I will
linger with the Lord and my husband and feast on whatever crumbs
the six feet distance from my grandbabies can afford.

Love,
Lea

"We have lingered for Thee eagerly"
Isaiah 26:8

Dear Emily,

Colorful paper in piles on the floor.  Sweaters, socks,
and jammies in happy heaps nearby.  Books stacked
in towers of promise.  Tears of joy and sorrow linger.

Outside my kitchen window, the snowman leans
precariously for his lost glove.  The snow now a sweet
memory.  As are lost grandparents who, of course, are
not really lost but waiting in heavenly realms.

Angels singing, earth rejoicing.

Love,
Lea

Restoration

Dear Emily,

I just happened upon this old blog and took
a trip down a winding, dusty road.  You know
what?  I encouraged myself.  How was I so
naive and full of hope? Where did my lilting,
winsome babble go?

No matter; I have grandchildren to restore it.
The Lord is so good at restoration.

"God will restore everything you lost; He'll
have compassion on you; He'll come back and
pick up the pieces from all the places where
you were scattered."  Deuteronomy 30:3

Our old precious pastor, Brother Bill, used to
warn us not to become 'weary in well doing.'
It just makes us wearier.

How do we become feistier in well doing?

Love,
Lea

Two Years Later

Dear Emily,

More than two years ago I was swept into my parents' aging vortex.

Nothing.

Not even raising five teenagers prepared me for the heartache, frustration,
and exhaustion of that battle.  I think of it as a battle, because I was at war
with doctors, nurses, siblings, and even the parents for whom I was advo-
cating.

Everything.

In my life was consumed by this.  My poor, loving husband watched his
wife wither into an old woman whose eyes were wrecked from crying.

Yet, here I am now, somehow on the mossy shore of the same ageless
river that once tried to drown me.  My parents are still fragile but happy,
sometimes.   I am older and wiser with advice:

1.  Before your parents lose their capacity to care for themselves, make
copies of EVERYTHING: driver's licenses, medicare cards, insurance
cards, birth certificates, social security cards, doctors, medications.  One
day every important document will scatter everywhere: in their cars, in
their shoes, in their silverware drawers, under beds, under dressers,
under water.

2.  If you can afford it, hire a home health care nurse to supervise the
dispensing of meds and to interface with doctors.  The medical world
likes to use vocabulary no one else can speak.  An advocate helps.

3.  Obtain a Power of Attorney before you need it.  Trust me, you will
need it.  It is the crown and scepter of parental care.

4.  Maintain one or two relationships to vent, whine, and even punch.

5.  Cast all your cares on the One who loved your parents from the womb
and maybe even more now that they are unable to care for themselves.

Love,
Lea

"Even to your old age I will be the same, and even to your graying
years I will bear you."  Isaiah 46:4

Raising capital

Dear Emily,

Notice anything different?  Yep, I'm making myself use capital letters,
because I'm a grown up now.   As soon as my parents began to depend
on us kids more, I knew it was time to capitalize.

I've learned to capitalize the importance of trusting my siblings and to
delegate.   Another lesson is from Philippians 2:3, "Do nothing out of
selfish ambition or vain conceit . . . but consider others before yourself."
It is a capital offense to whine about the difficult decisions we must
make.

Ours have been capital parents, giving us all they knew to give, and
now it's our turn.

I've been in denial, pretending things were not slipping down that
slippery slope.   I've also been a hypocrite, thinking I was a devoted
daughter.   Now is when the rubber meets the road, and I pray I can
meet the challenge.

Which brings me to my favorite Alexander McCall Smith quote,
"Denial and hypocrisy get bad press; there's plenty of room for both."

Love,
Lea

beauty obsessed

dear emily,

when i was your age, i went days without moisturizer much less makeup.
NOT because i was overwhelmed with keeping up with five children, but
because i had a makeup addiction.   the acknowledgement of my disorder
led me to fast beauty products for a season.

my poor husband never said a word except, "i like you better without it."
he also said, "i like you better with some meat on your bones."  what
a gift.   him, not the extra 'meat'.

i realize now that my beauty obsession had its roots in a comment from my
father when i was young.  i have a gorgeous mother and not the kind of
beauty that requires eyeliner or even lipstick.   she rises from her sleep with
a pink flush on her perfect cheekbones.   i was proud when she walked the
halls of my highschool, because she was prettier than the cheerleaders.

when my dad said, "you will never be as beautiful as your mother," i thought,
"well, duh."  i don't think he meant to be cruel but was complimenting her, as
i was outgrowing my awkward, cygnet years.   he didn't realize how hurtful
the remark was to his seventeen year old daughter.

how kind of the Lord to give me a husband who loves my heart.  "beauty, oh
beauty, where is thy sting?"

now, let me just say that i have a loving relationship with my father, and i
still like makeup.  every barn needs a nice coat of paint.   this is a fun beauty
blog written by a young friend.

love,
lea

"it came about when he came near to egypt, that he said to sarah his wife,
'see now, i know that you are a beautiful woman . . . '"  genesis 12:11

"Preaching to the choir"

Dear Emily,

Many people have a presumption about choir members, thinking we
are all goody-goodies.   nope.   I have a funny story to disprove it.

Caution:  leave this blog now if you can't take a little pg-13.   Some
of our choir members are in highschool and college, and they are
delightfully talented and refreshingly guileless.

In between services, some of us were standing in line in the ladies'
room, when one of our young choir members said, "I have a secret
admirer at school."

That got my attention.   "How do you know?"

"He leaves notes on my car."

Now, I was totally intrigued.  "What do they say?"

"The last one said, 'You have a great ass.'"

When I saw the horrified expression on the face of the woman NOT
in the choir,  I said, "I'm pretty sure, you can't say that in a choir
robe."

Love,
Lea

"When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, He said of him, 'Here is a
true Israelite, in whom there is no guile.'"

tag, you're it!

dear emily,

it's been fun reconnecting with old highschool and college friends on
facebook.    no matter how much time has passed, we have an instant
rebonding that boggles my brain and delights my heart.  

it is not delightful, however, when people 'tag' me in photos.   my page
is smothered with odious pictures that i did NOT choose or want.    it
reminds me of my least favorite childhood game, 'tag.'   i would die a
thousand deaths once tagged, because i was never fast enough to tag
anyone else.   in my case, once tagged forever 'it.'

right now i have a photo, front and center, of my jiggly, fat arms.    i
haven't removed it, because i didn't want to hurt the person's feelings
who tagged me.   wow.   i just reread that and realize that i may need
counseling.    wait, just a sec . . .  ok,  i just untagged myself and feel
so much better.

now, there are still unflattering pics of my aging face but i'm resigned
to that.   when friends from my distant past first visit my facebook page,
they all say the same thing.

"look at your sweet face."  sweet is the new 'old.'

love,
lea

"but people do not pour new wine into old wineskins . . . " mark 2:22

still the one

dear emily,

i spied hans driving to work as i finished my walk.
this is unusual, because  he usually leaves before i
even wake up.   i know, no "here's your scrambled
eggs and bacon, honey."

my justification?   i would rather he remember me
from the night before than the morning after.

anyway, he motioned me to his car.

"they're playing our song."

we have a song?   i leaned in to hear shania twain's
twangy, "still the one i run to, the only one i belong
to . . ."

for dang certain,
lea

ps.   "love must be sincere.  hate what is evil; cling
to what is good."   romans 12:9

how will we know?

dear emily,

how will we know if we have raised our children well?    there are many
litmus tests, but i like the kindness test the best.

• how do they treat the dog when no one is looking?
• who do they prefer, the high and mighty or the underdog? (sensing a dog theme here)
• are they generous to those in need?
• what do i feel when they leave,  relief or sadness?

sadness, always sadness.   

our oldest son and his precious wife have been living with us for nine months

while they have been remodeling a home.   tonight they spend the first night 

in their own house, and i'm feeling just like i did when he  left for college.

but that unhappy feeling is laced with gratitude and hope.   i hope they visit 

often, and i'm grateful that, because they were such thoughtful houseguests,  

i don't feel one bit relieved that they're leaving.

well, i guess i could say that i'm relieved he grew up so kind.

love,

lea

"be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in 

Christ God forgave you."  ephesians 4:32

men are from . . . way farther away than mars

dear emily,

hans and i were driving home from a father's dinner at my brother's new
house.   i had on shorts and he (my husband, not my brother) had his hand
on my leg ( i know, TMI.)   he would lift his hand and then put it down. . .
lift it, replace it, etc.

i couldn't help but think about every night, when he does the same thing.  
just as i'm drifting off into a sweet dream, he lifts his hand, then replaces
it, and BOOM!  i'm wide awake.   the fourth time, he gets my elbow.

so, as we're driving along, i said, "would you like to know the secret to
happiness?"

that got his attention.

"if you would hold your hand still, it could stay a lot longer on my leg."

" . . . but it stops feeling like skin if i don't move it."

i give up,
lea

"again i say unto you, if any two of you agree on earth as TOUCHING
anything they shall ask, it shall be done for them by my Father in
heaven."  matthew 18:19

green jimmy choos

dear emily,

hans and i celebrated our 33rd wedding anniversary the night of our
lovely niece's rehearsal dinner.    the coinciding events made each
one even more special, but my feet enjoyed themselves the most.

a week ago, hailey and i were taking a circle through sak's shoe dept. 
we consider this a museum expedition, gawking at beautifully crafted
works of art.  at the back of the department i saw a vision of loveliness
that took my breath away . . . green suede jimmy choo pumps.

hailey noticed my elation and began listing the outfits in my closet that
they could happily accompany.    but, the extravagance paired with the
idea that being so memorably green, i couldn't wear them often, dissuaded
me from even trying them on.   i imagined a certain person whispering to
a certain other person,  "i saw lea in her old green shoes again."

a week later there were several of us huddling around our kitchen table
computers, postponing the fancying up for the rehearsal dinner when hans
marched in.    he wore a triumphant expression, carrying a saks bag, and
'i just knew it held a jimmy choo' (dr. seuss shout out.)

as i was dreamily gazing at my gorgeous foot, shelby said, "samara will
LOVE dressing up in those."   :)

love,
lea

"every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father
of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."
james 1:17

just do it

dear emily,

i don't often post videos, because i don't think people really have time
for them.   they hop over here, because it's usually short and sweet . . .
or sour.

this is worth the time, i think.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CfVJT7rqc_0&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DCfVJT7rqc_0&nomobile=1

love,
lea

not a farmer

dear emily,

my dad grew up on a farm outside a tiny town in the panhandle of
oklahoma.    farming remained in his blood well after college and
medical school.    he was, in fact, the quintessential country doctor,
even though he always practiced medicine in the city.

he longed for the country and so bought 1,200 acres near our city.
to my horror, we became ranchers.   every weekend and for three
or four weeks each summer (our summer vacation,) we worked
cattle, rode horses, and hauled hay.   my dad relished the hard work
in the sunshine, as if doctoring 80 hours a week wasn't work.

as a teenager, the city held my heart.   i liked tanning at swimming
pools, shopping at clothing stores, and drinking diet dr. pepper with
vanilla at sonic.   my sympathy always fell with lisa douglas from
'green acres.'   why, oh why, did oliver make her leave the city?

while pulling stuck hay from the sharp blades of dad's tractor on a
105 degree day, imagining a rattle snake with every reach, noting
that dad was about five feet above all rattlers, i would sing,

"new york is where i'd rather stay . . . i get allergic smelling hay."

love,
lea

"ruth said to naomi,  'i would like to go and glean grain in the field
of anyone who will allow me . . . "  ruth 2:2

that time i ran away from home . . . as the mom

dear emily,

i'm not sure if shelby has told you this one, but six weeks before her wedding
i ran away from home.

all five kids were home the entire summer we planned her perfect day.    there
was constant activity, a little anxiety, and clamour . . . from me not shelby.
she was an angel.

it being my first wedding and all, i set the bar pretty high for myself, read
every book on wedding etiquette,  and still managed to make a gazillion
mistakes.    after lecturing telling my family to be sure to tip the delivery
man, i tipped an old family friend's daughter.   she was horrified.

my sister in law, in her deep southern accent,  said, "lea, while shelby is
writing all her thank you notes, you're writing all your apology notes."

the lady who ordered our invitations kept sending the lists back with "you
can NOT address a formal invitation with 'ma and pa kettle.'"

the door bell rang 100 times a day.   there were fittings and shootings.   i
shot the caterer, church photographer (not ace) , and wedding planner . . .
then i packed an over night back and left for the nearest hotel (it was either
that or the psych ward.)    my family received this text:   "i will be home
tomorrow,  maybe.   don't call or text me.   feel free to shoot anybody you
like."

love,
lea

ps.  "but jonah ran away from the Lord and headed to tarshish."  jonah 1:3

side effects

dear emily,

we were chuckling about a drug commercial during the NBA playoffs
with a horrifying list of side effects:  cancer, severe stomach bleeding,
death.   my son mumbled, "does anyone even remember what drug is
being advertised?"

even if we could, i was not likely to take it.   what ailment could be worse
than severe stomach bleeding or death?  allergies, itchy scalp, aching pinky
fingers?

our generation has become accustomed to taking drugs for everything, and
there's no telling what we have done to ourselves.   my recent addition is
calcium plus 1200 units of vitamin D.   my parents worked outside for
their vitamin D, which is just one reason they are called the greatest
generation.

we'll probably be called the wimpiest generation,
lea

"beloved, i pray that in all respects you may prosper and be in good
health, just as your soul prospers."   3 john 1:2

my superpower

dear emily,

i have a new superpower,  but you may be wondering, "what are her
old superpowers?"  uh huh.

my new superpower is invisibility.   can you possibly imagine how
convenient this might be?   i could slip right in front of any line in whole
foods, AMC theaters, or the bank.    heck, i could rob the bank, and no
one would see me.

i'm as see-through as the very air i breathe . . . unless i'm under water.

it has been a gradual disappearance, so it only dawned on me recently
that i have become invisible.    a small disclaimer, though:   i am not
invisible to everyone.  for some reason, children can still see me.   they,
of course, have their own superpowers..

my secret?   skip the lipstick and tuh dah!   invisible.

oh the power,
lea

"so we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.   for
what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."  1 cor. 4:18

blessing and sorrow

dear emily,

my friend patricia and i were discussing the random nature of blessing,
wealth specifically.   this is an uncomfortable subject for me, because
i like to pretend money is like the leaves of a tree, available to whom
ever reaches their hand to pluck it.   that, of course, is fiction.

one can't really think about blessing without a nod to its sister, sorrow.
remember when 'much afraid' (hind's feet on high places) is bound to
her new friends, 'sorrow' and 'suffering?'   shudder.   they were truly
friends and protectors, though.

why do some have a bucket of blessing, and others a hayfield of sorrow?
heck, if i know, but this i do know:     how we respond to either is the
spoonful of sugar.

there are innumerable non-fiction stories about men of great fortune
who dithered it all away . . . along with wives and children.    there
are also accounts of women who endured great suffering and through
it blessed many.

oswald wrote today that if we yield through the fires of sorrow to the
Man of sorrows, "God will make us nourishment for other people."

feast on me, baby!

love,
lea

"He was . . . a Man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering."  is. 53:3

spinach pesto turkey sandwich

dear emily,

i have really been trying to replace bad fats and sugars with good fat
and VEGETABLES.   aaargh.   i just can't make myself eat enough
of those nutrient rich foods, so i've had to be creative.   for instance,
instead of slathering mayo and mustard on my sandwich today, i made
a spinach pesto with coconut oil.

think that sounds gross?  well, you're wrong.   it was delicious and full
of good fat and green veggies.   "i'm dreaming of a" whole grain pasta
and vine ripened tomatoes drizzled with this yummy pesto.

while i wrote those two puny paragraphs, my husband just ate half of
my sandwich.   here's the super easy recipe:

an entire package of baby spinach
3 garlic cloves
1/2 cup parmesan
1 t. dry mustard
1 t. apple cider vinegar
1 T. honey
ground pepper
1/4 c. coconut oil
tiny dribble of olive oil as a token to normal pesto

squoosh it into your food processor and season to taste.

you're gonna' love it,
lea

"the earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof."  psalm 24:1