Synchronicity

In the Artist's Way, author Cameron writes about synchronicity ..."a fortuitous intermeshing of events." In the artist's context, she notes and expects synchronicity. . . as one begins the process of creating, unexpected resources become available enabling the process, one's Creative Muse cocreates with the artist. One receives what one needs.

There is another application I identify as synchronicity, i.e., receiving a similar message from different sources in close proximity. I had that experience last week as I finished reading two books, different contexts, different cultures, yet with similar conclusions. The first was The Infidel, by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. The other was Mel White's Stranger at the Gate. I had read White years ago (forgetting all but the broadest message of course). The book was recently offered to us by a friend, and so I read the book out loud to Larry this past week in our work travels, completing it within a day of completing the other.

Ali is a Somali woman of Islamic heritage, an advocate for women's rights. She became a Dutch citizen and member of Parliament, and is now in the United States, partly for her protection. It was her film "Submission", that led to the assassination of the producer, Theo van Gogh a few years back.

Stranger at the Gate by Mel White is a memoir of his experience being gay and Christian in America. He spent many years in the closet, active in fundamentalist and right wing Christian circles, a ghost writer for all the biggies, Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson and Billy Graham, among many others. Several of these books were best sellers. He wrote speeches, produced films, was involved with Youth for Christ, a pastor and professor at Fuller Seminary, all the while spending thousands of dollars on "ex-gay" therapy and "Christian" counseling, praying and pleading to be healed and delivered from his homosexuality, even getting shock therapy, all to no avail, leading to despair and brushes with attempted suicide. In the early 1990's, with the support of his dearly loved wife and family, he ended the deception, the secrets, and came out. He became a pastor and advocate for Christian gays via Metropolitan Community Church and Cathedral of Hope in Dallas. Of course his former clients/friends have nothing to do with him. His book is an interesting and compelling commentary, as relevant today as it was in 1994 when published.

When Ali comments about Islamic fundamentalism and rigid interpretation of scripture she could be speaking about Christian fundamentalists and the religious right as well ... both lead to suffering and persecution and death of those who would dare to differ from the orthodox belief and practice. Both White and Ali experienced the suffering that results from a rigid interpretation of their respective scriptures. Both had to deconstruct the religious teachings of their childhood. Both tell tragic stories of the physical torture and death of acquaintances and friends. Both tell their own stories of personal struggle. Both expose the agenda of their respective fundamentalist interpreters and the radical right in clear and certain terms. Both offer the average American Christian the opportunity to view orthodoxy through a different lens.

At the same time I read these books, I observed once again our cultural obsession with the Christmas season. I am not drawn to the sounds and sights of Christmas. I am not inclined to worship at the manger. It is the man Jesus who has meaning for me. His relevance is centered on his declaration of mission, "The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor, He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." (Luke 4:18-19) I am also drawn to the justice passages of the Hebrew prophets . . . "What does the Lord require but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God." (Micah 6:8) and again from Amos,"Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!"

These Biblical challenges, in tandem with the personal stories told by Ali and White, give me pause. But what have I done to further the cause justice in my world?

2009 Christmas Greeting

Hello, dear friends and family, it’s that time
when we reflect on months gone by and choose
a few events to highlight Kennel news
by crafting them to speak in rhythm and rhyme.
No bouncy poetry for me this year.
Sometimes I feel I’m mired in Advent’s theme
of darkness, grief and loss. Were it a dream
I’d gladly wake, make way for Christmas cheer.
For sure, our year has been the usual mix
of fun, new life, and laughter. Still a cloud
has threatened to envelop like a shroud
with pain-filled situations we can’t fix.
No matter the specifics we still say
that gratitude and Love have hemmed each day.



The New Year dawned ‘mid war and much unrest,
the economic future an unknown.
So many suffer, life pared to the bone,
but in the midst we know that we are blessed.
The sun still greets the day with warmth and light,
reminding us of mercies ever new.
The rain refreshes, as does morning dew,
inviting us to walk by faith, not sight.
Our children and grandchildren bring a thrill.
We look in little eyes and sense their joy
and curiosity, each girl and boy
an eager, open heart that we can fill.
What privilege we have, and this we say
that gratitude and Love have hemmed each day.



Yet oft’ we’ve taken note through circumstance
that life and death marched forward side by side,
a cycle that can never be denied.
Unwelcome partners, they are Dirge and Dance.
The Kennel and the Headings fam’lies had
some festive times. The memories are dear--
more precious when soon after, I do fear,
we got a call, this time the news was bad.
My younger brother, Ron, had passed away,
a sudden loss that makes no sense. We mourn.
He touched our lives, and still our hearts are torn,
his death, a myst’ry dimming thoughts to grey.
And yet with certainty of heart, we say
that gratitude and Love have hemmed each day.



The dance of life goes on with good news, too.
Our children all are active, doing well
with work and play and stories fun to tell
of toddler antics, stunts the kiddies do.
The year brought growth upon our fam’ly trees.
How joyfully we welcomed each new birth.
Two gifts from God, and who can say their worth?
The future will be shaped by such as these.
The first was Evelyn Grace, her birth a thrill
to Nate and Terah, Bella and the boys.
And then came Lucas James, he added joys
at home with Steve and Fran, Logan and Lil.
We count our many blessings and we say
that gratitude and Love have hemmed each day.



Our projects kept us home —more work than play
with one or two exceptions. In the fall
the AETA met in Montreal
and we delighted in our time away.
A vineyard now is growing on our hill.
The hours of labor Larry, Steve and Scott
devoted brought results. The barn has got
a new roof, too. More time is needed ‘til
a total transformation is complete.
We’ll stay in touch. You’ll be the first to know!
Meantime, we’ll keep on working, on the go.
We think to work for friends is quite a treat.
As we reflect and end this note, we pray
That gratitude and Love have hemmed YOUR day!

To pray or not to pray . . .

Comments around a recent face book status have provoked further reflection. I wrote, "Because not everyone is spared harm, does that mean it is disingenuous to pray for safety and gratefully claim divine protection when we have been spared? What is the underlying message heard by those who are suffering [when we claim an experience of Providential protection]? Something doesn't sit quite right if we say God is personally loving and interested and drawing each of us to greater wholeness and well-being, but can't acknowledge that care because someone else might have had a different experience."

So, back to the age old question, to pray or not to pray. Does prayer make a difference? Here is a flow of consciousness from my morning journal:

Prayer for me is this quiet time, writing in my journal, listening in the silence. Breathing in, breathing out. Letting go of things I can't control. Trusting there is a Spirit of love, well-being, goodness, a stream working to right the universe, knowing that I want to align myself with that greater good. A centered feeling of "all shall be well."

I do not know how the fields of energy around us work, whether they are measurable or not, whether they are physical or spiritual, whether they are angels or Spirit or electricity or light waves. It is our human nature that longs to quantify, touch, label. The spirit longs for resonance with the Spirit within, to learn the language of the unutterable, the indescribable, mystery, seeks a "knowing" that is deeper than any words and language, preceding, interceding, all encompassing. A glimpse of the Holy.

It seems a risk to speak of these sacred moments. To bring them from the beauty of our inner sanctuary to the outer world exposes them to the intellect where we examine them with the critical lens of our limited human understanding, a bit like casting the proverbial "pearls before swine." Touches of the Holy may be tarnished by our doubt, our questions, our skepticism.

In recent years I have been drawn to the thought that I am a spiritual being on a human journey (rather than a human being on a spiritual journey). I continue to ponder the implications of such a perspective and find it a helpful paradigm to understand my dissonance with values of the surrounding culture. How to live in the world but not of it--a question that goes back at least to Biblical times if not before . . . leaving a meaningful footprint, not denying our humanity, finding ways to be fully human, yet having a self-identity that is immeasurably more.

So then, whether or not prayer moves the universe, prayer changes me. It is my favorite hour of the day, the source of well-being, centered contentment and deepening joy.

I Just Don't Get It!

After many interruptions and distractions over the past several weeks, this morning I finished reading Barack Obama's book, Dreams from my Father. I found it interesting, enlightening and insightful as he reflected on many of the experiences of his childhood and young adult years, culminating in a visit to his father's home and family in Kenya. Why are so many people afraid of him and his leadership? I don't get it!

-- Post From My iPhone

And my world shifted

My brother died two weeks ago and my world shifted. Life is not the same. Awareness is not the same. I am intensely conscious, every moment, that Ron, as I knew and experienced him, is gone. Gone. No more strong, welcoming hugs. No more wry grins or twinkling eyes. No more wisdom shared in terse one-liners. Ron as we experienced through our five senses is no more. So then, what remains of this man we all loved?

Joan Chittister writes, "People return to us after they die--not in body, but in essence. Then we see most clearly who they were." What is the essence that remains? Is it simply found in our memories of him, or is it more? Is it his spirit, the unique life-energy that he embodied? In any case, how does one best integrate that essence in meaningful, positive and, perhaps, healing ways?

I do not find traditional religious belief systems to be of much help. So many of those constructs seem like the result of our own needs and desires--God seen in our image, heaven as a physical place for autonomous beings and relationships.

Over recent years I've been drawn to an expanding image of God as Spirit, Energy, Love, Mystery--an ever present, vital, life-giving and life-sustaining force, present yet unseen. Is Ron's essence now part of that invisible energy flow?

Is it coincidence that as I ponder these questions, longing for deeper enlightenment and meaning, for expanded understanding and experience of God, that a recent sermon would touch on these very themes--God as creative energy, spiritual electricity, source of our creative essence as explored in The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron?

For several years, while a participant in Kairos: School of Spiritual Formation, my daily prayer was "Unite my life with yours, O God, transform me as you will." Yet the prayer became dry and lifeless, blocked by some undefined barrior, abandoned to daily reality. But not forgotten. And now, with my brother's death, the longing returns, a deep soul cry for knowing; and the resulting world shift provides an altered point of entry. The Artist's Way suggests mystical union through opening oneself to creativity, to partnering with the Great Creator. It seems like an invitation to explore, a Divine response to my earlier prayerful pleas.

Let us see where this process leads.

Machu Picchu - 1978

This summer, some friends of ours visited the ruins of Machu Picchu, Peru. In 1978, Larry and I spent a month in Peru as guest helpers with Wycliffe Bible Translators. Most of that time we were in Yarinacocha, a base in the jungle near Pulculpa. Before we left Peru, however, we had the opportunity to visit Cusco and Machu Picchu.

We flew into Cusco from Lima. Early the following morning, we left Cusco for a 3.5 hour ride on the local train to Machu Picchu. Arriving at Machu Picchu, we ran from the train to waiting buses, managing to get on the first bus up the mountain to the ruins. As the pictures show, the stonework was amazing, both in the buildings and in the terraces.










Encouraged by our friends in Wycliffe, we decided to climb Juana Picchu, the tallest of two mountains overlooking Machu Picchu, seen in the background. According to my journal, it was quite a hike over to the mountain, and quite a hike up. The path was steep and narrow, mostly of stones hewn into the side of the mountain. Up, up, up, for about an hour and a half.




On the train from Cusco, we met two women from Michigan. They also climbed Juana Picchu.




This picture, taken from the vantage point of Juana Picchu, is the road from the train station in the valley up to the ruins. As you might imagine, it was quite a ride, especially as the bus negotiated each hairpin turn!



At one point, the path went through a cave.




This is a view of the ruins of Machu Picchu from up on Juana Picchu.



This is a picture of Larry and me at the top . . . nothing there but sky and a huge rock.



The hike down took about half an hour and we got back to the ruins without incident. Only later did we hear stories of people who had fallen off the path never to be found . . . The train ride back to Cucso was a bit over four hours. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience for us.

If you build it . . . part II

In April, we planted 3150 grapevines. It's time for a photo update . . . then until now.

This is how each newly planted vine looked . . . a single, waxed graft.



Within three weeks the grapes were growing, and so were the weeds. We cultivated them twice using an old tobacco cultivator. We also pruned them for the first time, nipping off all but two or three shoots, and any tiny bunches of grapes.

And that was just the beginning . . .


Anchors were placed at the ends of each row, augered in using a post hole digger attachment.





End and line posts were driven in using a vibrating pounder which the guys rigged up to a skid loader.



A pencil rod was placed at each vine.



The vine was fastened to the pencil rod with plastic banding.



We purchased a grape hoe to cultivate the growing vines.



The hoe has a sensor that detects the pencil rod and swings out around each plant, then back into the row.



Last week the guys strung the fruiting wire in each row. It is attached to the end posts and to each line post.



Each pencil rod is clipped to the fruiting wire.



The plants have been hoed and pruned again. There is only one stalk remaining. It will become the main trunk for the maturing vine.



The vineyard now. It is a beautiful thing to see!

Reflections: If Grace is True

Recently I've felt a nudge to publish some journal entries previously kept private or shared with a few like-minded friends. This reflection, written a few months ago is one of those pieces.
***
I've just finished reading the book, If Grace Is True: Why God Will Save Every Person, by Philip Gulley and James Mulholland, for the third time! I've been asking myself a question . . . what is it about my own experience that makes the message of the book so compelling to me?

As a child, I heard mixed messages--I heard "God is love", sang "Jesus loves me" and "Jesus loves the little children of the world" but I also heard sermons about hell and damnation for those who didn't accept Jesus as their Savior, who didn't believe [i.e., as we believed, didn't have the truth, as we did]. I could never quite understand why, if love were stronger than hatred, if we were to overcome evil with good, as we nonresistant Mennonites were taught, why we continued to promote salvation using fear, proclaiming the terrors of hell, offering escape from eternal torment rather that inviting people to experience the goodness of God. It didn't make sense to me.

As a young adult who passionately and without reservation recommitted my life to following Jesus, I began to encounter these tensions again. I read the Bible from cover to cover numerous times. In my attempt to take Jesus' life and work seriously, to apply it faithfully to my own life, I seemed constantly bumping into those Christians who would explain away what I sensed in my spirit as truth, who would limit love and grace, making it more practical and somewhat conditional. For a period of time, in my sincerity, I read the Bible as literal truth, but something didn't "feel" right in my spirit, something about it became legalistic, quenching the Spirit within me. ["for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life" 2 Cor 3:6b]

For many years I held in tension Biblical authority (which was actually church authority--the traditional interpretation of church leaders) and what my own heart--what I believe to be the inner voice of the Spirit--was nudging me to acknowledge about the implications of God as Love, God as Grace. These nudgings shaped how I felt about those with a different lifestyle than mine, it even shaped my parenting . . . I longed for my children to make good choices based on love and an inner sense of what was right, rather than out of fear of punishment, or "because I said so."

My studies of the history of the church with its fights and splits, the history of how the canon, our Bible, was selected amidst power struggles, in tandem with my own observation of the misuse of power and authority by some church leaders today, led me to adjust my understanding of scripture. No longer can I hold my childhood view that God dictated scripture, nor do I ascribe to a doctrine of inerrancy as do fundamentalists. The Biblical texts are no less sacred, however. As the story of God's interaction in history recorded throughout a long period of time, these texts hold within them the truth and wisdom of God, as understood and interpreted by inspired, yet fallible humans. The Bible tells of the nature and work of God as revealed in the life and teachings of Christ. Its words become life-giving when interpreted by the living Spirit. I believe that wisdom and truth continue to be revealed by the Spirit to those who truly seek God with their whole heart.

With this understanding, I began to test and weigh the insights of scripture, using the filter of Jesus' life and teachings along with my own experiences and the resonance of the Spirit within me. I began, slowly, to trust my own sense of who God is. A serious study of other major religions brought the shocking awareness that there are persons in each with a devout commitment to discovering spiritual truth, and to practicing a life of peace, love and forgiveness. What could it mean when non-Christians live a life more Christlike than some who openly and stridently profess to being born again?

More and more, I've been drawn by God's love, grace and mercy, as taught and modeled by Jesus. It is the way to joyful living and the influence that I want to guide my decisions and how I view and treat others. In this process, I've had to make room for the unknown, for God as Mystery. I acknowledge that there are many things I just don't know, but in letting go of my need to know, I have experienced a new level of inner peace, of living with questions rather than having all the answers, of trusting that "all shall be well."

Some of these ideas have been taking shape within my spirit for years, mostly unspoken, or hidden within my journals. They were difficult for me to articulate with clarity, nor did they seem safe to discuss in family or church circles, since some of the ideas do not represent orthodox theology. When this book "found" me (and yes, I believe when our lives are led by God's Spirit, certain books and experiences "find" us at the needful time!) it was like meeting kindred spirits and fellow seekers who were putting on paper what my own spirit had been wrestling with for quite some time.

Through these words, the Spirit spoke to me, confirmed some of my perspective, and challenged me to consider some new interpretations of familiar passages of scripture, new ideas about grace beyond what I had imagined. A more complete understanding of God's grace for all people not only frees me from the bondage and exclusiveness of an "us and them" paradigm, it compels me to live according to this understanding, not limiting God's grace to a chosen few, but extending it to all, inviting all people to come to God's table, trusting that it is this love and grace that will overcome the barriers to relationship with God and will draw people to repentance, to turn away from former things, to live as Jesus did.

I do not presume to have a corner on truth, nor can I say with certainty that I'll always believe exactly as I do now. My beliefs have been an unfolding journey, and I am committed to remaining open to new leadings of God's Spirit. This book, however, is a pretty good representation of my current understanding of the implications of God's love and grace.
-------------

Reflections on The Wisdom of Forgiveness

I recently read The Wisdom of Forgiveness: Intimate Conversations and Journeys by the Dalai Lama and Victor Chan. What follows are some reflections from my journal.

The mantra is forgiveness and interdependence. His wisdom and practice is presented in the midst of his experiences of meeting and sharing stories with folks all over the world. There is one meditation practice which strikes me . . . it's a bit different and for sure more universal in perspective than our normal individualistic spiritual practice.

In response to the question "Is there a special meditation technique that you use?" he says, "I use a meditation technique called giving and taking. I make visualization: send my positive emotions like happiness, affection to others. Then another visualization. I visualize receiving their sufferings, their negative emotions. I do this every day. I pay special attention to the Chinese--especially those doing terrible things to the Tibetans. So, as I meditate, I breathe in all their poisons--hatred, fear, cruelty. Then I breathe out. And I let all the good things come out, things like compassion, forgiveness. I take inside my body all these bad things. Then I replace poisons with fresh air. Giving and Taking. I take care not to blame--I don't blame the Chinese and I don't blame myself. This meditation is very effective, useful to reduce hatred, useful to cultivate forgiveness."

What I find remarkable about this meditation is that rather than shun poisons, he takes them in and replaces them with compassion and forgiveness. I've often wondered how to pray, how to respond to negativity and pain. This gives me a technique to respond to some of the ugliness. I'm going to try it.

I have frequently used a breathing technique to breathe in love and light and breathe out my stress and pain. Take in the good, let go the bad. This seems to be the opposite. Take upon oneself the ugly, breathe out blessing. Reminds one a bit of Jesus, doesnt' it? Perhaps in my practice of prayerful meditation there is a time for each.

The Dalai Lama also shares a delightful image about the potential impact of small actions, an illustration of interdependence. He calls it the Butterfly Effect. The flapping of a butterfly's wings in Beijing could cause minuscule atmospheric changes, which over time could affect weather patterns in Vancouver. It reminded me of similar thoughts contained in writings of Madeleine L'Engle.

From where I sit…

We are gone for the week, working and then relaxing. I love it that all I need is Kindle and I can take a whole
library with me. I am never without something to read, including news apps.

We are at the house in Tioga County for a couple days before going to Slate Run for the annual Kennel family reunion. We are enjoying the quiet beauty, sitting on the porch, listening to birds, watching monarchs hovering over the milkweed patch. This morning we saw four buck under the apple trees. There is a bunny out there too.

Sarah and her family will be here by noon and it won't be so quiet after that!



-- Post From My iPhone

Books: The Unlikely Disciple

A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University, by Kevin Roose. A young journalism student at Brown University decides to spend a semester at Liberty University incognito and then write about his experience. He figures this will be as much of a cultural shock as any semester abroad.

I found the book to be fascinating. Roose is quite a remarkable young man…observant, open to learn, insightful, wise for his years, honest about his experience and respectful of his friends. So much so that the reader is hooked, wondering what the author's personal transformation might be in the end.…


-- Post From My iPhone

Keeping on keeping on…

I've been participating in a 40 day email series called "Practicing Spirituality with the Quakers". Much of what I've read is not new to me, but nonetheless, there have been helpful reminders of some of my deepest core values. A recent excerpt jumped out at me, touching a longstanding area of personal vulnerability:

"Not one of us will live long enough to see a fraction of the difference we make, but it is essential that we pursue our ideals anyway. Many of the first Quakers never saw freedom of religion come to England. Most of the original suffragists never got to vote. The murdered civil rights workers did not get to see racial tensions ease. Few idealists live long enough to see their dreams made real, and yet their influence lives after them, and their dreams do, sometimes, come true for others."

— Kate Maloy in A Stone Bridge North

Years ago our home seemed to be a haven for folks in need. We poured our energy, our love and our resources—our very selves—into the lives of several individuals and families. We have no sparkling success stories to tell, we can't point to lives transformed in any obvious way. Reading such stories has always stirred up questions for me about what we did or didn't do or might have done better. And yet I've always been comforted, in that inner place of knowing, that we did the best we could with what we knew at the time, that our motives were loving and sincere, and that those events and relationships came to us for a reason. Looking back, I see holy moments.

Living faithful, living true in our relationships has always been important to us. We may not see that we've made any difference in our lifetime, but these words by Karen Maloy encourage me to keep on keeping on!

-- Post From My iPhone

A Book Review, of sorts

We Have a Religion: The 1920s Pueblo Indian Dance Controversy and American Religious Freedom, by Tisa Wenger

In reading the cited book, one of the things that was obvious to me was that everyone sees these events through their own filter of experience, including participants documented in the story as well as those of us who read it. I was acutely aware of how my own experience of authoritative religion was shaping my response at times, how I felt in my gut the familiar angst, the sickening knot of being patronized by what I've called 'benevolent patriarchy' (and sometimes not so benevolent, though I think the patriarchs involved intended it to be so for the most part!), the pain of knowing that one's experience, beliefs and/or personhood is not valued by those in positions of power and influence.

Arrogance! Over and over, I was struck by the arrogance of religious and government leaders presuming to know what was and is best for Native Americans without giving them voice in the decision-making process. The assumption that our religious beliefs have evolved and are in all ways superior to indigenous and other non-Christian spiritual wisdom and practice is troublesome. It was interesting to read the Native American's development of religious and legal arguments that continue into the present. Reading of these ongoing cases, it strikes me again as ironic and arrogant to observe the U.S.'s presumed right to speak with authority to civil conflicts around the globe, when our own record is so dismal.

It was fascinating to read of the development of the term "religion" within the tribes, how religious arguments were made on behalf of traditional leaders and progressives alike; and that the western concept of individual choice as applied to religious freedom has been a two-edged sword. And to read about the controversy posed by the presence of non-Indian spiritual seekers in the present . . . I hadn't thought about some of these things.

I have no first hand experience with the realities of the Native American experience. It would be interesting to hear a response and discussion involving persons who have lived and worked in proximity to native peoples, medical people who have been in the clinics, those who've worked in orphanages, those who have provided social services, who have seen the ugly side of societal breakdown--drug and alcohol abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse. I suppose, just as in the historical record, the opinions of cause, effect and solution would range across the spectrum.

I finish the book with an appreciation for the complexity of the issues. In spite of the challenges, we must continue to find ways to live together in this nation, respectful of those things held to be sacred, yet recognizing the great diversity among us in that regard. Three years ago, Larry and I had the marvelous privilege of spending eight days and seven nights on a river rafting trek through the Grand Canyon. It was not only an exploration of physical beauty and grandeur, but an awesome and reverential experience as well. Did we desecrate sacred Native American space even though we were respectful and abided by the "leave no trace" dictum? What is an equitable solution to such dilemmas? And how is sacred space violated by Native Americans when economics are involved? (I'm thinking now of the glass walkway suspended over the canyon and open to the public.)

This book, with its extensive documentation, careful exploration, and insightful interpretation, adds a valuable perspective to the discussion, but I, for one, don't have answers.

Home alone

Well, not quite! Larry is gone (he headed to the mountains for the weekend and an anniversary party for friends). I, meanwhile, went to Lancaster to pick up the three older siblings of baby Evelyn, and we stopped at the hospital on the way home.



The children are staying with me tonight and tomorrow. We had supper at Burger King. It's been awhile since I tried to manage three pre-schoolers on my own! At bedtime, they wanted to be together, so they are three in a bed. After some giggling they actually settled down and now they are sleeping. Sweet dreams little ones.

Evelyn Grace

New grand daughter as of 5:17 this morning!




-- Post From My iPhone

If you build it . . .

Instead of turning cropland into a ball field, we're turning a ball field into cropland . . . a vineyard, to be specific.

Last fall, the fences came down. Mid-March the ground was ripped both ways with a subsoiler, leaving huge clumps of sod which needed to be broken up with a disk and then plowed under. In April, there was more disking and harrowing in preparation for planting.


Then the vines arrived from California. 3150 of them.


This is one bunch of the bare roots, grafted plants.


And then planting began.

Lily's new puppy

Lucky is a Maltese-Yorkie cross.




Logan was more interested in Grandpa's tractor!

-- Post From My iPhone

Signs of Spring

One of my favorite spring wild flowers ...





And I love traditional daffodils...




And these white daffodils given us by a dear friend...




Today I reflect on this wondrous beauty while also mindful of those who carry a burden of grief and great loss.

-- Post From My iPhone

A walking meditation

It is a lovely day in early spring with the promise of warmer days to come. I went walking, the same two mile stretch I've walked dozens of times over the years.

In 1994 when my oldest was home from college for the summer, we got up at 6 a.m. each morning and walked together. We continued our walks until her wedding in 1996.

By then second daughter had joined us, and walking wasn't enough. She wanted to run, training for field hockey. We walked and jogged those early summer mornings until her wedding day in 2000.

Now if I walk I am usually alone. But I like the silence. Sometimes I'm lost in thought, sometimes I see my surroundings. I always notice my favorite tree, standing regally, alone against the sky.





One year for Christmas my daughter gave me a framed collage of this tree in the four seasons.

Today I paused at the entrance of my neighbor's driveway. Gretchen, 63, lived many years with Parkinsons disease. She, too, used to walk in the early mornings and we often passed one another in the darkness just before dawn. Later, when she could no longer manage those walks, I would see her in her flower garden, watering, tending each bed with loving care.

Today I stood before a dead winter wreath hanging on the fence. It seems to speak of the recent experience within those gates, for Gretchen died the end of February.





Who will tend your gardens now?

The hint of new life is all around. Snow drops and crocuses are blooming, daffodils are budding and tulips are growing. The pussy willow bush is covered in luxurious fur. Robins and bluebirds are here in abundance, and the goldfinch is getting it's bright yellow coat.

Death and life, always present.

Something new

I downloaded a program to blog and post pictures from my phone. This is my first try. If it works I'll have the option of blogging while on the road.

I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not!

Last week when the weather brought hopes of spring, Larry got out the barrel "train". It is a favorite activity for the grandkids. And we think Larry enjoys it as much as they do!



The engineer . . .




Lily




Jade




Colby




Logan