A New Name and Look!

Greetings! This is the same blog you're used to, only with a new name! "Repaired Wall" is the name of our homeschool, as well as a way of life. Like He used Nehemiah to tear down and rebuild walls, God uses us to do the same thing in our lives. I hope we will continue to spur each other on as we seek His help in doing that.

This summer has brought joy and sorrow. I took a walk alone one day, and stopped to stare at two rabbits:

I received a loving gift from my friend Joy, an entire mandarin orange cake just for me. It tastes like a creamsicle, and is juicy like a fruit drink! 

 It's my custom to freeze cake. Whenever I'm left with almost a whole cake, I cut it in generous slices, and wrap each one individually in foil. Then I place these pieces in a big Ziploc bag labeled with whatever flavor the cake is. When I have a guest or just feel like a treat, it's easy to pop out a piece or two, leave it on the counter a few moments to thaw, then microwave it if it's still too cold. You'll never waste cake again!

Precious Daisy was our doggie friend whose owner, Dottie, works at the racquet club. Daisy was faithfully there for the years we've been going for tennis. Sadly, an accident occurred in the parking lot last month, and Daisy did not survive. We were heartbroken, and cried along with Dottie. God gave us animals as wonderful companions. Just the day before the accident, I had been able to enjoy extra-special time sitting with Daisy, patting and talking to her. Everyone at the club misses her terribly. 

On a lighter note, but still on the tennis topic, would you believe that one of our favorite courts on which to practice is situated right beside a field of cows? That's what you get in western North Carolina. Don't mistake a score-call for a moo! 

I was actually standing on a court when I shot this photo. My children will surely remember growing up playing tennis next to cows! It's a charming scene that also includes a playground, library, and town hall.

I surprised myself all school year by liking King Arthur as much as I did. This edition by Sidney Lanier is written in very hard-to-understand English, yet understand it, we did. All I did was read it aloud, and my children and I were able to figure out the meaning, even if we couldn't have come up with that fancy language ourselves. This volume of knights, damsels, dwarfs, jousts, castles, hermits, horses, and weapons is truly a treasure. We spent an entire school year reading it. Incidentally, I've found the same to be true when reading works we perceive to be "difficult," like Plutarch's Lives or Shakespeare. Just read, and glean what you can take away. You'll be surprised how much your children (and you!) take away!

When my dad was still in restorative care early this month healing slowly from surgery, he noticed that his sister sounded weak and tired over the phone. She had battled cancer since the early 2000's, but always seemed to move forward and bounce back from treatments. Never did she complain, always looking on the bright side, and lately, she did a lot of traveling. It was surprising when she took a sudden turn for the worse, and shortly after her doctor said there was nothing more to be done, hospice was called. This happened in a matter of days. 

Aunt Susan never lived close, but she never seemed far away. She was a star on Opryland's early stage, and later in charge of the park's entertainment. Several years after it closed, she made a fresh start at Disneyland in California. How we treasure the sweet trinkets she sent over the years from there! I look around my house and see many reminders of her. I wear the cute apron she sewed for me this past Christmas. God made Aunt Susan special; she slipped out of her pain on July 10, and we can't believe it. You never want a loved one to suffer, yet death can come so suddenly. May we all be ready to run into Christ's arms! 

Here was my view when I spoke to Laura, Aunt Susan's daughter, the morning of her passing: 

It was around 6:20am Eastern time, so you can figure it was dark and early for where Laura was in California. We've only lived in this house four months, but already this has become my place. This is what I see from my porch bench. Here, I sit and listen to squirrels rustling through leaves, birds twittering in the trees, and the breeze swaying the limbs. I watch those ferns dance back and forth. I laugh and cry, talk out loud to God, write pages in my journal, make hard phone calls, ask friends for intercession over texts, savor coffee, close my eyes, ponder God's Word...all at this vantage point, on the bench my kind step-father Jim restored for me. Since that sad, early morning, I always think of Aunt Susan when I go out there. A bird cried out in glorious song, and Laura could hear it over the phone. She said it sounded like her mom.

I was so glad for the company of dear friends that night. Liz and Burney are some of the most gracious, easygoing people I know. We love to have them over for dinner and Trivial Pursuit, men versus women, with our girls helping both sides. Our games last so long, we end up not finishing. Burney roasts his own beans and supplies the after-dinner coffee. That evening, he brought an extra treat: 

These are little potatoes from his garden, even the purplish things. He made purple mashed potatoes! They were delicious! I'd never had that before. How intriguing to dish out a heaping mound of what looks like blueberry fluff, only to find that it's mashed potatoes! Liz and Burney know something about everything, and are full of surprises. They cheered me up that night.

A few days later, I went to see my dad, who is finally at home after six weeks, but still confined to a wound-vac. This is a machine that helps heal an infection from the inside out. I stopped to see my almost-one hundred year-old grandmother, who remains independent. I still love going to her house. Talk about memories all over the place! 

Look at this kitchen! 

Don't you just love it?

One thing my grandmother likes to do for my children is give them cash. Here she is, writing their names on envelopes where she had stashed the dinero: 

Isn't she something? Is this house cool, or what?

And I have to show you one more thing that goes with the house: 

 Isn't this the cutest little old doghouse? 

I was feeling so nostalgic, I just had to catch a glimpse of my old school, St. Paul's Catholic. I have fabulous memories of this place. 

We had an African-American janitor there named Ernest, and his mother also worked with him. They were quiet and kind. The Catholic Bishop of the Diocese at that time was also named Ernest. When we had mass and the priest routinely prayed for "Ernest our Bishop and all the clergy," my friend Jennie and I couldn't quite figure out why he devoted special prayer specifically for Ernest the janitor, but didn't name any other teachers or staff, or at least the principal. We decided that "Bishop" was a fancy word for janitor, and that "all the clergy" must include his mom and others who worked at the school. For anyone who loves Beverly Cleary's Ramona, you recall a similar mixup that she had. "Oh, say can you see, by the dawnzer lee light," she sang every morning. A dawnzer surely must be a lamp; it gives a lee light. 

And finally, this place is on the other side of the school, on Dean Street in Spartanburg: 

It's old and beautiful, and when I was a kid, I dreamed I lived in it. I imagined walking from school right home, changing out of my uniform, and watching cartoons, eating junk food. I just had to include this captivating old place.

Until next time!

We love you Aunt Susan!

Susan Luers Burtnett Bablove

1952-2019

Coming Down From Chaos

When you've had a succession of busy days or months (or years), do you feel the need to "come down" from the chaos? I certainly do! The things filling up this time might all be good, but even so, they leave me breathless and desperate for a rest. God made our bodies to need rest, and He demonstrated this by resting after creating the universe. Jesus confirmed that the Sabbath was made for our rest. But, boy...it can be hard to stop!

The funny thing is, it can take me a while to rest, even on rest days! I find myself finding it hard to settle down all morning, and not really "resting" until two or three in the afternoon! In his book Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, Peter Scazzerro addresses this in detail. He speaks to the fact that although it's counterculture these days to stop and rest (he even calls it "doing nothing"), God's design for us never changes. We're left tired because we go, go, go. 

Isn't this little spread lovely? Several weary women flopped down at this outdoor table one Thursday evening some weeks ago. We chatted, laughed, shared stories, threw in some talk about Charlotte Mason's methods, and enjoyed each others' company. What refreshment!

Back to the busyness. The past few months have consisted of us deciding to downsize, getting rid of stuff (where did all of that come from??), launching into a whirlwind adventure of a fast house sale and buying one half its size, having a charming three-week respite at Ravenswood (see past post), then moving to our sweet tucked-away, over-fifty-year-old "new" house. 

Somehow we started back with school, then the month of May brought three tennis tournaments, two of which are big, special, out-of-town ones. As much as our family enjoys the sport and our daughters love to play, we are intentional about participating just once or twice a month. However, May is always the busy tennis month, and this year proved challenging because of our tiredness from the move. This is what prompted me to reevaluate the Sabbath, making sure that we are intentional about keeping days of rest. Per Scazzero's encouragement, I also like to take mini-moments of rest throughout the day. I've been known to drop my cares outside:

Poetry is something I'm also learning to love. Homeschooling has done that for me; my own experience in school caused me to dread poetry, as I was forced to write it while uninspired, or pick it apart for something my teacher was looking for. How refreshing it is to experience it for poetry's sake, to use it for cursive practice, and for our enjoyment of something beautiful:

May also brought several end-of-year activities, which meant planning and preparing. I felt sometimes like I was drowning in a fog, thinking about school, laundry, menu planning, cleaning, and when to practice for all those tournaments. These things that I love on a regular basis started to suffocate me. The devil loves to do this to us, take things in which we normally delight, and cause them to create havoc in our lives. I daily had to step back and breathe. Normally, we don't live activity to activity, in a state of chaos. No wonder people these days are frazzled, with no time. I had to purposely get lost in the roses: 

I said yes to my mom's invitations to the lake, even when there was housework and other stuff to do. 

Who wouldn't be invigorated after an afternoon at this place? There's no question that the hot South Carolina sun, the wind whipping my face and hair on a boat ride, and Jim's hot dogs followed by the ever-expected ice cream sandwich, all contribute to putting my brain back in order. 

One of our tournaments was in Greensboro. We found a cottage from 1900 in Winston-Salem, and stayed there for the weekend. The neighborhood is being revitalized, and houses over a century old are coming back to life: 

On the Saturday morning of our stay, I relished some moments on the front porch, praying and reading Scripture, enjoying the view of an old street, gazing at the big, red house across on the corner, and examining a blue jay who became my momentary companion.

During this time of unusual busyness, my dad developed an infection that landed him unexpectedly in surgery and in a long recovery, where he still is. Another thing continuously looming about in my mind is church. As our move put us over 40 minutes from our church home, we've been searching closer to where we live. I've long desired for church and community to be in the same place, and the search for a church home is neither easy nor a quick process. We've been surprised by the idea of home church, and are exploring this with great care and lots of prayer. 

Alongside all the activity and mind exercise, I've suffered physical anxiety and been very near to panic. People respond to stress in different ways. My stomach takes a beating, and in extreme times, I launch into a fog, losing focus, feeling short of breath and almost like an elephant is standing on my chest. There has been lots of prayer, and lots of stopping to regain focus. 

Thankfully during this time, my daughter made homemade monkey bread! 

When we were putting our house on the market, I had a few moments of tears as I sat in my cherished "red room." This room is where I started my days, at my grandmother's old secretary desk, after prayer in a yellow chair I bought some years ago at an antique store. I couldn't bear the thought of giving up my red room, and prayed for a new spot, one that I'd enjoy just as much.

This photo of my grandmother's living room was taken sometime in the 1970's: 

I remember when this furniture was reupholstered. It was around 1984, because I was about eight years old. I went into the house, and the room was empty. When I inquired about the furniture's whereabouts, my joking Papi said that some man had come by and said it was his, and had taken it. I knew better.

This furniture was acquired by my great uncle, Narcy Quintero, in New Jersey. Evidently, a friendly neighbor old lady left it to him, and she had gotten it from England. He offered it to my grandmother, who had to pay a whopping $25 to have it shipped to South Carolina. And the rest is history.

That furniture (still covered in the upholstery from '84) now sits in my new special place, the room that is the answer to my prayers:

 ...and I still spend my quiet times at the secretary: 

It's among these things that I'll be taking some good, long rests for the rest of this week. The final trip for a while was a four-day stint in Cary, the home of an incredible tennis facility where my daughter played in a southern level junior tournament. She kept winning, so we kept staying! I love the buzz of excitement at these events, the friendships made between girls and their parents, and the fellowship of seeing these friends, especially those we've gotten to know from all over our state of North Carolina. The competition was fantastic, and the time spent with my girls was wonderful. The highlight of the trip was watching my daughter play on a stadium court, with its own chair umpire calling the score! 

But now we're home, and are purposefully taking the next few days off from much of anything. I think I'll need several days to "come down" from it all!

Until next time...

Advent Season

The season of waiting before Christmas, Advent, is meant to be savored in anticipation of the coming of Christ. I began last year to be more intentional about not getting caught in the trappings our culture has come to think are what Christmas is all about. While none of our favorite seasonal activities are wrong, it's too easy for me to become overwhelmed if I'm not careful. Nothing should be allowed to creep in and steal our focus on Christ's entrance into the world. The late Barbara Johnson, one of my favorites, wrote, "Set priorities, and practice saying no. Don't be afraid to change traditions if you can't cope with doing things the old way." I have to remain constantly vigilant.

I found this verse tucked in the folds of the seldom-read book of Amos, the Old Testament prophet. It popped off the page. Life comes when we seek the Lord! Jesus said this, too: "I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly." (John 10:10)

There is freedom in focusing on Christ...after all, He is the reason we celebrate Christmas! He enables us to find joy in those special things we associate with this season so that they don't become trappings. Eyes set on the Giver of Life  are able to enjoy the season and not become enslaved to it. Bondage to Christmas is the antithesis of the holiday; it's falling into the enemy's trap and contrary to the whole reason Christ came. I cringe when I hear people talk about Christmas as something weary, complaining of all they have to do, and what little time they have. Seek the Lord, and live.

Here I am at one of my favorite places, with one of my favorite people:

My friend Liz and I were at church about two weeks ago, and I had to have a photo of her gorgeous dress. She makes all her own dresses, and they are works of art! Liz is well-known at Missio Dei church (and, I guess in our area) for her exquisite wardrobe. She uses her God-given talent to glorify Him and spread the joy of Christmas in a unique way.

The girls and I couldn't ignore this in school:

I was taken aback when I realized that the attack on Pearl Harbor happened seventy-five years ago this year. I remember when I was in high school, it had been "fifty years ago," which seemed like a long time. The "Greatest Generation" is rapidly being taken from us by time, which has to march on. We are blessed to have had them as our grandparents, and to have heard their stories. Soon our World War II veterans will be but a cherished memory. This sentence was our copywork for the day, which the girls carefully put into their notebooks. 

Something we look forward to all year is baking gingerbread. This is not an activity to be hurried or crammed in between other events. There's the dough preparation, cutting out various shapes, baking the cookies, then finally the girls' favorite part: the decorating! I reserve several hours, and often an entire morning or afternoon for gingerbread. The fun and memories (as well as the finished product!) are well worth the time.

The girls had a blast and put hard work and time into these cookies. They are the folks at the racquet club where the girls practice tennis, and we took them right over as soon as they were ready. Notice the animals; these are the club dogs, Daisy and Dinho!

And you might guess who these are...the girls made cookies of themselves this year!

Our pastor recommended this book for Advent this year, and I'm enjoying spending time in it daily:

In addition to my usual reading of The Cloud of Witness (which begins daily readings during Advent and goes throughout the year), Bonhoeffer's selections provide profound growth during Advent. Each daily devotion takes only a few minutes to read, rich in ideas on which to meditate during the day. I like to read this in the morning and The Cloud at night. 

Here is a note from today's reading in God is in the Manger:

"...look up and lift up your heads, because your redemption draws near." Luke 21:28

I have written before about our church group that comes over every Tuesday. Our church serves several counties in western North Carolina, so we have people who go from near and far. During the week, groups meet in homes all over the area so that we can get to know those from the church who live close to us. Our group consists of thirteen adults and seven kids; the adults vary in age from twenty-five to forty-five, with some married, some engaged, some single, and some separated and standing for their marriages. We share a meal every week, then spend rich time in the Word and prayer. 

We have come to love each individual in the group as we share our lives together. Life is messy, and our group is a safe place. People can share deeply or not. I have noticed that it never takes long for a newcomer to feel like a part of our group. We are brothers and sisters in Christ who sharpen each other and spur one another on, growing more confidence to know each other and be fully known. 

This week, we decided to all provide appetizers and desserts, then we did a "white elephant" gift exchange with old stuff from our own homes that we didn't want anymore. One thing about our group: not only do we laugh and cry together...we EAT together! I wanted to make something special, but there was that time factor I mentioned earlier. 

I decided to try an easy Pinterest bark recipe. The girls and I used one bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips, a bag of Andes mint chips (a seasonal item; can also crush regular Andes mints), and some crushed Kit-Kats. All we did was put foil on a shallow baking pan, dump and combine the chips and mints, and put them in the oven for two minutes at 325. Once they were slightly melted, we took them out and the girls swirled it with toothpicks while I drizzled the Kit-Kat pieces over the top. This process took a total of maybe five minutes. We placed the creation in the refrigerator for a half hour to harden, then I took it out and broke the sheet into pieces. Instant Christmas bark!

This will be a must for future Christmases because of its ease, and the little time it takes. The possibilities are endless: omit the mint chips and just do chocolate with drizzled bits of coconut and almond for the Almond Joy fans in your life, or use white chocolate instead and drizzle it with crushed candy canes. Broken Reese's peanut butter cups would make a yummy topping for a plain chocolate version, too.

Liz and Burney were first to arrive, and he was donning his own unparalleled creation:

This wins the Christmas sweater contest! Burney is a coffee roaster and spoils us with freshly roasted and brewed coffee every week. This time, as he went around the kitchen and dining room serving it, he jingled everywhere he went!

What a feast we had!!!!!! I love the foretaste of heaven, fellowshipping over the table with my brothers and sisters. 

There was apple-cream cheese spread, regular cheese spread, ham croissants, a  beautiful meat tray, pizza bites, biscuits and a veggie plate that arrived later, corn, ambrosia, Oreos and Nilla wafers, chocolate chip melt-aways, mini chocolate chip cookies and ice cream, candy canes, and the bark. Our group knows how to have a meal!

Until next time....focus on the real reason for Christmas, our Creator and Sustainer, the Giver of Life. Although He should not be overshadowed by anything, don't be afraid to receive the joy that this season brings in the form of fun things. It is our receiving with gladness and not guilt or tiredness that we prepare to receive Him, our greatest Gift.

MERRY CHRISTMAS 

Apologies After Years

"Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day." (2 Corinthians 4:16).

Are you thankful to not be who you once were? Boy, I am. I am not who I once was, nor am I yet who I will be a year or five from now. Part of my really coming to believe this has to do with what the Spirit laid on me some years back: the importance of asking for forgiveness.

As I thought back, times would come to mind of which I was not proud. It's a fact that we all have behaved badly and have regrets, but certain situations and people kept nagging at my mind. How terribly I had acted toward them; how I wished I hadn't done specific things!

"What, Lord? You want me to do...what?"

Yes, He wanted me to reach out and apologize...for things that had happened years and years ago. 

"Please, no! Lord, how am I supposed to confront people over things that happened so long ago? They'll think I'm nuts!"

Yet it wouldn't go away. You can guess what came next.

Before I go further, let me clarify a few things. First, although the incidents that were coming to mind were nothing earth-shattering by the world's standards, I was learning that by God's standards, I had sinned against a fellow image-bearer, regardless of how "small" it might seem. Also, the process of "making amends," as my Dad calls it, has shown me the truth that my sin is foremost against God: "Against You, You only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Your sight," David laments in Psalm 51:4. We must first go to the Lord and acknowledge how our sins hurt Him, repent, and praise Him for His forgiveness. The blood of His slaughtered Son covers all wrongdoing. 

So, why bother going to the one who was offended, if God forgives? Believe me, I kicked this up and down in my head awhile, aiming to avoid the discomfort of confronting my bad behavior in front of others. There is no way around it; being a Christ follower requires painful sanctification, and also obedience. If the Spirit kept bringing this up, I had no choice but to obey. I would discover the reason, which turns out to be the reason for everything we're supposed to do: it's all for the glory of Almighty God. 

Over the past four years or so, I have made amends in various ways: surprising someone via email with an apology about something I did or said, sending back an item that wasn't mine to its rightful owner, and even making outright phone calls to ask for forgiveness. As I contemplated writing this post, more apologies came to mind than I had remembered. The thing is, the first time I obeyed and did it, I thought, "Whew! Well, that's over; I survived!" Then guess what happened? It wasn't long after that another person came to mind...then another...and yet another. Dang it....oh, yeah...that narrow road thing again.

I don't write this to puff myself up. Trust me...nothing deflates a person like having to call someone on the phone and say, "Remember when we were in college and you were so nice to me and I was rude to you? By the grace of God, I'm not who I was then, and I want you to know I'm sorry and ask you to forgive me." And it doesn't get much easier with practice, either. My heart goes in my throat every time, whether I'm typing a note or dialing a number. I write this because I know my audience has pasts we'd all like to heal, amends we all need to make. I want to give you the courage to pray about whose forgiveness you should ask, too. 

A word of wisdom to those who are married: Share apologies to the opposite sex, no matter how "innocent," with your spouse. I have indeed gone to past boyfriends who I know I hurt deeply, and explained to them that I am now a Christ-follower asking their forgiveness. Be guarded against any traps the enemy wants to use for darkness, and pray to not be deceived. It is dangerous to secretly do this and then find yourself adding as a friend on Facebook someone you were involved with romantically in your past. Send an email, don't waste words, and then be done. Don't let Satan take what you mean for good and twist it into something contrary to God's design. 

Also keep in mind that the person might not receive you with warmth. You are acting in obedience anyway, and they are on God's hook, not yours. Again, you've done what you set out to do...now move on. 

One incident nagged at me for years. In 1997, I was a senior in college and found myself among a group of sophomore sorority sisters. I was cocky and felt so much wiser and adult-like. When one said I could hang out with them "..because you're one of us," I answered, "I don't want to be one of you." That hideous response stuck in my heart and wouldn't go away until about three years ago, when I messaged that girl, now a grown woman with kids, who I had not seen in about years. I explained what I remembered, word for word, not skipping the sting....then awaited a response. 

I expected her to say that she had been very hurt by it. I know I had become unpopular with her group of friends because of my superior attitude (actually, insecurity). Surprisingly, she said, "I don't remember that at all. I remember you as a very kind person." 

Again, why am I writing this? To say that in doing this thing with offering random apologies to whoever comes to mind, I have witnessed and received such grace, the kind the Lord wants to show me. He uses me to encourage others to go and ask for forgiveness, and He has used countless recipients of my apologies to demonstrate to me what true grace is. I have been blown away by some other responses:

"To tell you the truth, Bertie [my college nickname], I really don't recall it."

"You have nothing to ask my forgiveness for." (Yes, I did, but that person was gracious).

"What you're doing takes a hell of a lot of courage....I've never heard of anyone doing something like this."

"Of course I forgive you. I don't know what I'd do if Christ hadn't forgiven me."

"It's ok...and I'm sorry, too."

What if you can't reach the person (such as a deceased teacher), or you committed a wrong against society (like defacing property), and you still want to express your wrongdoing? God was there, and our sin is against Him. When there's no specific person with skin on, we have to take it to God and know that His forgiveness is enough. I once kept a CD belonging to someone, and he knew I had it, although I wickedly repeatedly denied it. For years I had it and even listened to it, uncaring. I have no idea where that guy is, and the CD was stolen back in 2000. R.M., if I find you, I owe you a Van Morrison CD. In the meantime, I will still seek you, and I thank God for forgiving me.

I found a tape that belonged to a nursery school where I worked, and couldn't stand to have it in the house one more minute. Sixteen years later, I put it in an envelope and mailed it back. Another person had given me money for a specific purpose, and I had taken it and spent it dishonestly. Ten years later, I put my own money into an envelope and mailed it to the individual's office. I included a note; all I wrote was, "Here's the money I owe you." 

Once I said something horribly insensitive and immature that hurt someone because of her sister's condition. It had not been my intention to sound so stupid, but once the comment was out, my foot was in. I remember trying to smooth it over, but the more I said, the worse I sounded. That was in 1994. Twenty years later, I messaged that lady, my former classmate, and told her I was sorry for things I had said that hurt her. I had to use the sensitivity I didn't have before, and this time I didn't mention the specifics. If she didn't remember, I didn't want to hurt her all over again. 

This is not an invitation to torture yourself into coming up with every terrible thing you've ever done. Let the Spirit gently and lovingly (as is His way) bring these to light slowly. You will know the right time and manner in which to seek forgiveness. Pray about what to say, and let the Lord give you the words. Once you've asked for forgiveness, thank God for the courage, and find freedom in it. He gets the glory; it's His victory, and you have the privilege in sharing in it. 

My prayer is that everyone who reads this will be bold enough to make amends. Go in the Holy Spirit's power, not your own. He makes us brave when we live according to Him. I shared this with a close friend, and that dear lady showed me just last week her email in making amends, and the beautiful response from the friend who, after many years, had forgiven her. 

Praise God, we're not who we once were, nor are we who we will be. 

Until next time!

A Bird, A Book & A Dog

A few days ago, I wrote about how God sees. In light of such thoughts filling my head, it's no surprise that Chippy started coming around. He showed up earlier in the week, jumping around our empty bird feeder, as if reminding us that it's time for him and his friends to make use of it.

In thinking about God's omniscience and omnipresence, this passage came to mind the other day: "Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father's will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Matthew 10:29-31)

It took a while to correctly identify this bird. Our interest has been piqued this year by The Burgess Bird Book for Children by Thornton Burgess, and although my kids and I are no experts, we can say we do know more than we once did. We decided this morning that he is a chipping sparrow, called "Chippy" in the book. Why should I be surprised that God would send him to our window?

This guy has fought for our attention all day for several days now. His "chip-chip-chip" sounds constantly from the butterfly bush outside the kitchen. He dances around the perimeter of the feeder, pecking away at bits of seed. He even comes to the windows, perches on the sills, looks in, and calls to us. It's as if he's trying to tell us something.

I like to think it's God telling us something. He loves us! He sees us; He cares about the sparrows, and He cares about us. Didn't I end the last post that way? And along comes Chippy. Thanks, Lord, for the reminder; I hope he's here for a long stay.

A Re-Read From the Past

Does any female out there remember this book? I re-read it in two days, and it meant much more to me as an adult than when I first read it in 1988. Aside from where we live and the fact that I don't have a brother, Stephanie Hirsch's pre-teen story is a close resemblance to my own. It's amazing that I can read this book so many years and see things with adult eyes that I never considered the first time around.

The adult-me does not advocate Judy Blume books for children. Although her topics are relevant, she goes into details that can be inappropriate. I am a huge fan of this book, but I recommend it for gals who are now ages 37-45, those of us who remember being pre-teens in the days before cellphones and Internet. This book takes me back to that awkward time of hitting puberty, changing classes, having crushes, attending school dances, all bathed in total embarrassment. It's like going back and watching "The Wonder Years;" it's fun to watch now, but I realize I had no business being encouraged in such topics back then.

As in most of her books, Blume adequately captures the essence of pre-teen thinking, and in this particular volume, adds the confusion that Stephanie feels because of her parents' separation. Her unweaving of Stephanie's feelings of anger and frustration are spot on, and I love the overall idea that this young girl knows that God's design is off, even if she has trouble expressing it. 

Yes, there are some parts that leave even an adult reader shocked. I turned several pages thinking, I'm glad I'm re-reading this as a grown woman, and will remember to save it until my daughter is way older. But I admit, it's nothing I personally didn't experience as a pre-teen...I'm just attempting to keep my own girls innocent a little longer. Overall, though, I delighted in remembering the adventures of Stephanie and her friends, and enjoyed this book much more with adult eyes and experience.

Happy Birthday, Cookie!

From the time I was two until age fifteen, my grandparents had a mutt named Cookie (pronounced "Koo-ky," as latinos would say it). Because much of my childhood was spent at that house on Brookside Road, Cookie and I were pals. She was small, stout, with smelly, shabby fur...the kind of dog you think about from the past. 

Cookie's nails clicked as she walked the hardwood floor, and her bark sounded like, "Bah!" She would scratch her hind end on a wooden piece that jutted from an antique chair, and she liked to sit with me under the dining table. When Papi took a shower, Cookie would plant herself in front of the bathroom door and wait for him. She liked to sit out on the walkway in the sunshine, "cogiendo sol," as Abue called it. 

When Papi would bathe her in the tub, she looked like a black drowned rat. He would firmly command, "Sacude!" and she knew he was telling her to shake the water off. Papi would wrap her in the same towel every time, a flowered, peacock blue one. He had written "Cuqui" on it in permanent black marker. I love that.

Once, I ate her dog food. No one was on the porch, so in an act of daring, I decided to give it a try. It was hard, crunchy, brown balls. Yep, it was dog food, all right. 

Abue always said that Cookie's birthday was March 10. We marked it a few years by having parties for her. These are pleasant times that I recall when adults went to trouble over something small for my sake. I'm overcome that Abue and Papi, and their friends Dora and Chini indulged me in this. Abue would decorate the table with anything that had a picture of a dog: old greeting cards, little figurines, and the like. Papi would make a cake, and Dora and Chini would bring other treats. We would put Cookie on the table, sing "Happy Birthday" to her, and eat the desserts that she wasn't allowed to have. She probably got to eat the hard dog food balls.

Probably March 10, 1984. My Dad, Dora, Chini, and me with my two
friends and Cookie. Notice the dog cards, bundt cake, hat on Cookie,
and the look of putting-up-with-it-for-the-kids on Dad's face.

What a blessing to remember all of this. I had marvelous times at my grandparents' house, surrounded by wonderful adults, and that sweet, loving, ball of matted fur. Happy birthday to my ole Pal!

How I miss her!