Thursday, March 29, 2012

Florida

My heart is in Florida today.

My dear Aunt Millie died on Saturday and was buried in a military cemetery today near her beloved husband, Warren.

My mom and dad each had a sister. Millie was dad's. She was 15 months younger than dad, and he watched over her.

My dad never had a bedroom of his own until he was married. His family lived in an apartment and the two bedrooms went to my grandparents and Aunt Millie. He had the couch in the living room.

Aunt Millie had a beautiful voice. An operatic voice. In fact she studied down in NYC with some very famous vocal instructors. My dad paid for those lessons, she was destined to be in the opera. But alas, she could not memorize the languages. So her singing career was confined to singing in my dad's band, and in the church choir.

My grandparents were musical, my grandmother played the organ at church, almost until the day she died. My grandfather directed the choir. Both Millie and my dad would sing with the choir and later would make guest appearances when they would put on a cantata.

Aunt Millie married Warren, who was a superb tenor. They had a band together and later sang in church choirs, the contralto and the tenor.

Our families actually lived on the same street for several years, in Rye. Terrace Court. I remember Aunt Millie, and mom, always wore dresses. Even when one was cleaning the house, house dresses. It was fun to live on the same street as relatives.

When Uncle Warren died, she moved to Hilton Head, to be near my folks. I saw her frequently then. She made many of our family reunions up at the lake. I remember her in her upper 70's riding the big jet ski and making us promise not to tell Peter, her son. He would be unhappy to see her in a potentially dangerous situation. She made the best scrambled eggs for us all and fried up pounds of pounds of bacon each morning. She loved Bridge and would play several times a week, even up until a few months ago.

One of our other favorite memories was when she was about my age, Rob and I were visiting her in Florida and we all went out water skiing. Rob had never tried and made a valiant effort but never got up, I skied for a bit but Aunt Millie showed us all how to really ski! She took off from the dock, skied all around and then they dropped her off at the beach. She skied onto the beach, and stepped out of the ski. I don't think her bathing suit was even wet, I know that not a hair in her recently coiffured head was out of place. We were very impressed!

I'm glad I was able to spend the week with her before she died. When she saw me in Florida the first night she sort of sat up in bed and exclaimed, "Am I dying? Oh wait, I'm dying!" How does one respond to that? Yes, and I'm here to tell you that I love you. We said that alot to each other that week.

I'll miss her and her indominable spirit. But she loved the Lord. So someday, Aunt Millie, we will all be together again!!

Love you!

Sunday, March 25, 2012

I Have A Tree

I have a tree which stands on our property line. We share the tree, technically.

It's about 80 to 100 years old. And it towers above our home.

When we moved here 28 years ago it looked a bit different.

Of course a little smaller, but still a significant tree by any standard. It was beautiful in the spring and summer, a huge canopy of leaves giving shade and homes to birds and other wildlife. In the autumn it painted the sky with reds and yellows mellowing to burnt oranges and golds.

But over the years it has sustained significant trama to it's trunk and branches. During the infamous ice storm 15 years ago, it lost huge branches on many sides. And it has sustained a hole 30 feet up it's trunk where, now, many families of squirrels reside. During several of our more severe winters other limbs and branches have been lost. We have had to call in the professional tree service people to cut up the huge limbs that have come down. Our seemly large chain saws, not up to the job. My lovely tree now sports numerous large holes from woodpeckers, scars from broken off branches and holes from birds and animals making this magnificent tree their home. It actually seems a bit lopsided now. It has had a lot of life wounds and injuries.

I have called the arborist 4 times over the course of 28 years. Each time I think, this tree can not survive another injury. It has finally met it's fatal blow. This fall when I called Marcus, he said, "no, this tree is still strong and healthy. It's strength is in it's mighty roots. It's not going anywhere. These maples can sustain a lot of abuse above the ground."

Yes, that's the secret.

Survival is in the roots.

A good foundation. Scripture tells us this. It's a Biblical principle. The foundation. Make it strong. He tells us that if our delight is in the law of the Lord we will be like a "tree firmly planted by streams of water, yielding our fruit in its season, its leaf does not wither; and whatever it does shall prosper."

My tree doesn't look as lovely and majestic as it did 28 years ago. But it is still flourishing, providing oxygen for the environment, giving shade to us in the summer, housing nests for birds in the spring, and wood for our fireplace with each limb that has been torn off.

We have all had some significant life wounds. Especially if we have lived beyond middle age. We have watched our loved ones die, we've had disappointments and had some of our hopes and expectations dashed. There have been times when I have just cried out to the Lord.."Not one more blow, Father. I don't think I can take one more arrow."

But I want my life to deepen, not wither because of painful life experiences. I don't want to be a victim but a survivor. And not only a survivor but someone filled with grace and peace. I don't want to be like the beautiful white birches I see in the woods. Lovely white trunks with swaying graceful branches. They are the beauties of the woods. But one good wind, and a whole stand of birches goes down. Strewn all over the forest floor. No roots to sustain them though trials and tribulations.

I want to be like my mighty maple. We may not look real good to some on the outside, maybe some scars from battles and disappointments are visible, but inside we are strong and committed to quality living on every level.

"Why are you downcast, O my soul?
why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God" Psalm 42

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Free At Last...Free At Last

Yes, I had my cast cut off today.

Freedom!!

But as they say with freedom, it comes with a price. My wrist hurts when I bend it certain ways, my thumb is so stiff from being in one position for 6 1/2 weeks, my grip is still very weak and I still can't open jars or lift anything with much weight, but NO CAST!!!

The X-ray showed everything was still in place, a callus is forming and things look really good, especially since the fracture was so severe. And I am typing with two hands now!!

Two hands and arms are very important. I found that out when I lost the use of one for 6 1/2 weeks. How to get dressed....now that was really funny to watch. Thank goodness no one had to see the slow frustrating progress of dressing each morning. How do you cut onions, or the meat on your plate? How do you eat a sandwich with only one one hand because the other one doesn't come anywhere near your mouth! Or wash your hands or your hair, with only one hand. Make a bed, or drive a car or clap? Try putting on knee high socks with one hand, or zipping up jeans and jackets. Zippers can be a big problem and very frustrating! How about going outside with only one glove on in -10 degrees because the other hand has a big cast in between the thumb and fingers. Everything, and I mean everything takes twice as long to do with only one hand. Try to read a book using only one hand...turning pages is an interesting proposition...I can see where a Kindle would have been useful.

But gradually one learns how to do things one handed.

I only had to experience being one handed for 6 weeks. And I knew that at the end of the prescribed time I would get the arm and hand back. There are plenty of soldiers that are coming home permanently with a limb missing, for ever.

We take our many blessings for granted here. I never thought about how blessed I was to have two functioning arms and hands. They were always there. They served me well, pursuing my occupation, raising my family, cleaning my home, preparing so many meals, planting my gardens, reading my Bible and taking notes, caring for my elderly parents, playing the piano, holding babies!

God is good and his blessings overwhelm us here in this country. We've all got plenty of food, warm houses, wonderful families and friends, music and church families, books to read, pets to play with, creative abilities to explore, projects to engage in and memories to hold dear.

Two hands. They are a blessing!