Anniversaries

 I tend to notice dates.

Significant dates.

Like anniversaries... of good things or not so good.

It was on this date in 2014 that we let go of something dear.

A cherished place 

Our Christmas tree farm

Our homestead

Our dream house we had built as newlyweds....

...

But now

For the last few weeks

I’ve been noticing something

Some good feelings

That I am starting to feel settled

Feeling at home in the new place

I seem to be feeling inordinately excited about the approaching holidays - and specifically about hosting our family celebrations once again.

This is the first time we’ve had a dining room in a really long time… since we moved out of the big house.  And to again have a fireplace where we can hang the stockings.

Plans are being made.

The menu is coming together.

The turkey has been chosen and is thawing in the fridge. 

Potatoes are being dug from the kids’ garden.  How cool is THAT?!?

...

Somewhere in the midst of the preparations and the good feelings I realized that this was the date of the that closing. That letting go… when we sold the Christmas tree farm.

Back in those days our girls would tell us things that really helped our perspective.

Things like the fact that we could take the good parts with us.

The spirit of the place.

That we could plant life in new places.

We knew they were right.

And now we get to enjoy yet another step of that wonder.

Another phase.

I also find myself remembering last year - the 10th anniversary of that letting go - when we were wishing, wishing… that we could be in our new home for the holidays… waiting for the final approval...  

But that didn’t happen.  

Well, EXCEPT for that one family dinner - and yes, it was take-out because of no working kitchen.

...

But now we are here and feeling at home.

We did it.

Sure enough, we brought "it" with us... that spirit of home.

We’ve planted life - which is already bearing fruit. 

A sense of community, connection, peace, welcome.

…

RIVENDELL

“That house was a perfect house,

whether you like food or sleep or storytelling or singing,

or just sitting and thinking,

or a pleasant mixture of them all.

Merely to be there was a cure

for weariness, fear and sadness.”

- J.R.R. Tolkien

…

Novel November

’Tis the end of October

Which means tomorrow is the first of November

Otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month

I have participated 15 years now - writing over 50,000 words each year.  Two of those projects have since been published - although they are not novels, but rather are non-fiction books.  The other 13 drafts lie hidden away and may or may not ever again see the light of day.

I’ve mentioned elsewhere that the official NaNoWriMo is no more but that many of us still plan to write. I keep discovering new resources designed to encourage us during this project.

Allow me to recommend one that looks pretty cool - called First Draft November. Here’s the invitation and welcome:

NaNoWriMo is canceled.

Your novel isn't. 

Thirty days, one messy draft.

Join us for a month-long

novel writing challenge

helping you hit 50,000 words. 

...

Happy Writing, friends!

If all else fails, take a walk!

 

I was crabby

Grumpy

Nagging my dear man

Crying

Asking his forgiveness - which he kindly gives.

Sadness

Fear 

Meanness 

So many people hurting

Scared

Downright terrified

So much bad news

Gotta’ look for the good things

Thank goodness, there are also many of them

Good times with wonderful people

Wisdom

Insight

Perspective

Learning from each other

I want to be kind and forgiving

Patient and understanding

I want to forgive others

I want to forgive myself

I want to shed my grumpiness

Maybe go for a walk

So I did.

It worked!

I wonder

When I was working as a missions mobilizer, I came across this story entitled “Sing a little louder” as told by an old weeping Christian man.  

A railroad track ran behind our small church, and each Sunday morning we would hear the whistle from the distance and then the clacking of the wheels moving over the track.  We became disturbed when one Sunday we noticed cries coming from the train as it passed by. We grimly realized that the train was carrying Jews.  They were like cattle in those cars!

Week after week that train whistle would blow. We would dread to hear the sound of those old wheels because we knew that the Jews would begin to cry to us as they passed our church. It was so terribly disturbing!  We could do nothing to help these poor miserable people, yet their screams tormented us. We knew exactly at what time that whistle would blow, and we decided the only way to keep from being so disturbed by the cries was to start singing our hymns.  By the time the train came rumbling past the church yard, we were singing at the top of our voices.  If some of the screams reached our ears, we'd just sing a little louder until we could hear them no more. Years passed and no one talks about it much anymore, but I still hear that train whistle in my sleep.  I can still hear them crying out for help.  God forgive all of us who called ourselves Christians, yet did nothing to intervene.

I have been haunted by that story.

I wondered how you could live with that kind of memory but what could they have done?

I also wondered how the German people had allowed such a person to gain so much power.   I could not imagine how that could happen.

But now… 

Here we are dealing with things I never could have imagined.

At first the money to feed starving people through USAID was shut down.  A friend of ours who has been directing a refugee camp in Haiti reached out to her church friends back here in Michigan and described that millions of people would die without that food.  Most of the comments were tender - except one stating that we shouldn’t give money because it just complicates the poverty situation.  I was stunned.  Well, yes, poverty is obviously a complicated thing - but these people had not caused it.  AND they were starving.  In. That. Moment.

It wasn’t long until the ghoulish spectre of mobs of masked men began terrorizing our cities, dragging women from their cars, invading apartment buildings, breaking down doors, forcing people from their homes… and a whole lot more…

Some of our friends and neighbors deal with extreme fear - as do the International students we work with - here legally but targeted because of their skin color or their accent.

It makes me shudder.

It is indeed haunting.

Frightening.

What are we do to?

This girl went to Sunday School and church for 60 years and learned that we must submit to the authority placed over us.

But this girl was also taught to obey God rather than man.

Jesus spoke regularly about welcoming the stranger and helping the poor.

So what am I to do?

What CAN I do?

I wonder.

I cannot stand by and do nothing.

I can speak in protest, but my voice feels so small.

Maybe I can stand beside people who are afraid.

I can listen. 

But is it enough?

I wonder.

Sitting area finally ready for sitting

We have always called it our “sitting area” although some people remember the huge stacks of bins and boxes, etc. that were piled there on moving day.  

As the weeks turned into months a few of you may remember hearing me exclaim about how I was getting it down to like only three rows deep under those windows. 

And then how excited I was as Row Two started to disappear.

...

Well... during GoodStock at The Good Beans Cafe, my man checked out the rummage sale in the Anteroom and found a pair of cool chairs for our sitting area.  

So… it was time to tackle Row One for real. I am happy to report that I have now pared it down enough that we can actually sit there in our sitting area.  

Sitting room, library, lounge... whatever.

I call it progress!

It wasn’t until sometime later that we discovered

the lovely chairs once belonged to the amazing Sybyl Atwood.