Cemetery Walk

After work today Husband and I walked in the cemetery, something we often do when we want to talk, take in some fresh air, or just escape life for a while. We stroll out past our landlord's garage, through his wide backyard, and over to the cemetery path. There, we loop around Oak Grove Cemetery noticing flowers, critters, clouds, trees, and names on headstones. The sameness of the routine is always eclipsed by the uniqueness of that particular walk. The season, the time of day, the weather, the things we can hear in the distance, or the encounters we have with nature.

A few days ago, Husband showed me how you can roll a tiny pinecone in your fingers and close it back up tight, like an unbloomed rose. We also found the pine seeds, which are like tiny maple whirligigs hidden in the pockets between the pinecone petals.

Another time we picked buttercups and found that although nearly all buttercups have five creamy yellow petals, there are some that have eight or nine.

Once we saw a deer in the cornfield beyond the trees. Another time we watched a groundhog there. On Sunday we sat on the asphalt path and watched tiny ants meander up and down the pavement's crevices. It must have seemed mountainous to them.

Today we saw a wild brown rabbit in the short grass of the yard. We inched our way toward him, making not a sound and trying to conceal our approach with slowness. We were probably 30 yards away when he froze. We shuffled closer and he started to tremble. A few more steps, and then he bolted. Our little Bunny. One day we'll tame him.

On the cemetery path, we smelled honeysuckle and found it, sucking drops of sweet nectar from the woody flower tips.

I tracked a honeybee on his travels through the honeysuckle.

After our honey adventures, we turned our attention to the sky where science-teacher-Husband explained how far away the cumulonimbus clouds probably were. We watched an airplane cut a path through the sky, becoming tinier and tinier but never plunging into the massive white vapor mountain.

Now, as I'm curled up on the couch after a bowl of ham and corn chowder, the vapor mountain - or, more likely, a different one - has burst over the house and a steady rain is smattering over the cemetery path, the honeysuckle bush, and the short grass of the just-mowed yard. Bunny is nestled deep in some warm, dry place. Honeybee is safe in his hive. And I'm ready to snuggle down into the rainy night too.

New Friend

I work with old people. "My old people,"I fondly call them. The adult day center where I work cares for older adults who live with a spouse or an adult child, or some other family member or friend, but need care during the day. We serve about 60 clients per day and many of our clients have dementia.

Today I worked in a different room from where I normally work. My clients today, in this room, have more advanced dementia than the ones I usually help. One lady, I'll call her Adelaide, was new to me. I had not met her before. My first interaction with her, in the afternoon, involved a game of golf. We roll out a green mat with holes at one end each person gets to putt a little bit and try for a hole in one. As I set it up, Addie said she didn't want to play. Another lady asked if I ever played. "No," I said, "and I don't intend to!" (Golf is a good walk spoiled, I tend to think.) When it was Addie's turn, I asked if she wanted to play, despite her earlier assertion that she was not interested. "No," she said. "I've never played and I don't intend to." I could tell she had some spunk.

Later, she noticed a man on the other side of the room who had dozed off. "I think there's something wrong with his belly," she told me confidentially. "It's not moving. I was worried but I didn't want to tell anyone." I glanced over at him and reassured her that he was fine; he was breathing, just napping. "Oh, good," she said. "I thought we'd have to call the undertaker!"

At the end of the day I was sitting next to her and she noticed that we were both wearing striped shirts. "Hey, I've got white and blue stripes and you've got black and white stripes," she observed. I smiled. "Yes, I wear a lot of stripes," I said. "I like them." She chuckled. "Me too. I think flowers and stuff are stupid. If that's all you have, I guess it's OK."

Sweet Addie was excited to introduce me to her daughter who came to pick her up. "Did you meet this?" she asked, pointing to me.

"Cute," her daughter said. "You want to take her home with you?" Addie's daughter didn't seem quite as amused by Addie as I had been all day. But that's the beautiful part of my job. I made a new friend today and she liked me. I'll probably make friends with her all over again tomorrow.

Day of Rest

Sunday normally functions as the second half of each week's catch-up period. The weekend is the only time I usually have to run errands, make a menu, do shopping, pay bills, clean the house, and do other assorted chores. By Sunday night I'm tired, but satisfied that I've gotten things mostly under control and the week can begin in a state of general order before the whirlwind of another week sets things in chaotic swirl again.

This weekend, I wanted to make Sunday truly a rest day, rather than just another catch-up day. In anticipation, I packed yesterday pretty full with chores. In the morning I went to the bank with Mom to check on some financial paperwork I need for our house purchase. Then I went to the mall for a replacement sugar jar. I broke mine on Friday. I went to ALDI and Giant and stocked up on all the food we'll need this week. I wrote a blog post at dinnerinparkerford, then in the evening we went to dinner at Applebee's with my family where we enjoyed the 2 minutes of elevated heartrate that are the Kentucky Derby. Later, at home, I cleaned the bathroom - most importantly, the shower curtain liner, a dreaded task that was actually not so bad, and felt so unbelievably satisfying. I fell asleep very content with the checkmarks on my To Do list.


Today, we had a few responsibilities before the rest could begin. We got up early to help set up the sound system at church. The first service went well, and then Jim, another member of the sound crew, agreed to watch the sound board during the second service and clean up afterward, so we were free to head home by about 10:30. We shared leftovers for lunch, then Husband napped while I read a book I'm loaning from Mom and painted my toenails. It's been a long time since I rested like that on a Sunday. Somehow, I didn't even feel that anxious, 'I'm-wasting-time' feeling that normally plagues me when I try to rest. Perhaps God made our bodies - or mine, anyway - to appreciate rest on Sunday, even when I normally find it so impossible.


Later, I helped husband work on some grading and lesson planning (yes, a little bit of work was necessary), then we took a short walk, on which I found two four-leaf clovers.

For dinner I made Crunchy Chicken Casserole. There's something about making dinner after a day mostly spent resting that's different from making dinner after a long, exhausting day of work. I love cooking any time, but it really felt refreshing to put a casserole together tonight. It seemed easier, yet more significant.


I'm still figuring out what rest means. I'm awful at relaxing. But today was good practice and it felt wonderful. I look forward to taking resting seriously.

Dum Dum

Tuesday night Husband and I were on our way to class at church. Coming up the hill past the cemetery, we saw a wolfish looking dog, a beautiful creature, crossing the road. We slowed down, stopped, and the dog came right up to the car. I opened the door, and she put her head in toward me. Not seeing any drool or crazed look in her eyes, I pet her and looked for a collar. Nothing. Her icy blue eyes told me she was a Husky. We pulled into the nearest driveway, and walked to the door to see if this was her home.

At the doorbell ring, a man with glasses and a short black ponytail came to the door. He looked like a short Johnny Depp.

"Is this your dog?"

"Yes, it is. Thanks guys."

"Sure. We just saw her out in the road."

"Yeah, she's been doing that. Come in here, Dum Dum. Hey, thanks again."

"No problem. Have a great night."

Dum Dum. I'm pretty sure it was a nickname to emphasize her folly in road-crossing. But it would be cute if it were her given name.

100

100 years since she sank.

I'm a sucker for Leo's Titanic of 1997 and I tend to forget that the ship was real, that she went down on a cold April night 100 years ago, and that people really drowned there in the water. I respect the truth of history, though, and appreciate the tragedy for its historic significance. I enjoyed the chance, on a cruise in 2009, to see some Titanic artifacts in a museum in Canada.

 A deck chair recovered from Titanic

 Sitting in a replica of a Titanic deck chair.

Third Class menu, a few days before she went down.

The grave marker for a J Dawson, who has become assumed to be the famous heartthrob Jack Dawson.

In 2008, when I was in Liverpool, where Titanic was built, I saw some other artifacts.

A life vest and the name-plate from one of the too-few life boats.

I've seen Titanic memorabilia on both sides of the ocean she couldn't quite cross. I respect her failure and the tragedy that her loss meant for so many people. I don't take Titanic's sinking lightly.

Nevertheless, I plan to see the re-released Titanic in 3D this weekend and I am so excited my heart is racing already. I never saw it in the theatre when it came out. I actually thought it would be dumb. "The ship sinks," I remember saying. "I know the ending so why would I want to watch it?" But in high school, probably 2004 or so, when I eventually saw it, I was hooked. The majesty of the ship, the hues of human nature the story illuminates, the sweeping soundtrack, and of course the love story. I'm extremely excited to see it on the big screen. I'll honor Titanic's 100th anniversary the only way I know how: by crying with Jack and Rose and imagining that, for a moment, I'm flying.


Love can touch us one time, and last for a lifetime and never let go 'til we're gone.

http://www.titanicmovie.com/YourTitanicPhoto/

Make it count.

He is risen, just as he said.

I wish I lived every day with the joy that Easter weekend brings. With the joy of remembering Christ's Great Exchange on the cross, everything that happens on Easter weekend seems perfect. This Easter weekend was especially wonderful.

I took Friday off and spent the morning baking Hot Cross Buns, a traditional Good Friday dessert. We went to church at 2:00 and from there, to my in-laws' house for dinner and family time. The meal was great and CatchPhrase and Family Feud after dinner were a blast.

On Saturday, Husband and I took it easy. We went for a drive, stopped for some Rita's, and then I spent some time outside near the cemetery reading.

Sunday morning, I had Nursery Duty at church both services, but I managed to sneak to the lobby and listen to the sermon. After church, we headed to Aunt Ruth's house. OK, so we're too old for an Easter Egg Hunt, but we were intrigued when Aunt Ruth said she had been walking in the woods behind her house and found some old bottles. She offered some alternate footwear if we wanted to go bottle hunting.

The woods aren't quite green yet. They're pink. The redbuds cast this pink glow over everything, a filter of rosiness through which even the bare tree branches look cheerful.

And our hunt? Successful! I vote to make Easter Bottle Hunt a tradition!

But that wasn't even the best part of the day. Later, during dinner, a lone fly was pestering us at the table. Dad was trying to clap it between his hands over the cream pitcher. Husband was trying a method of licking his fingers, then holding them out and waiting for the fly to alight. No one had been successful. The fly landed on a napkin in front of Grammy, my 80-some year old grandmother. With a stoic expression and great aplomb, Grammy brought her arthritis-gnarled hand slowly down on the fly. Then her stoicism melted away and she looked up at everyone with a look of dread and panic. I've seen old people do a lot of funny things; I work with people over 80 every day. But this was possibly the funniest. Husband and I tried to get our laughter under control while Mom got the fly-bearing napkin out from under Grammy's hand.

I love Easter and the spiritual significance it holds for us as Christians. I'm also thankful for the earthly joys God chose to give us this Easter weekend. God is so great in how He cares about providing big eternal joys and little temporal ones.

Happy Easter.

The Sixth Day of April

Four years ago today I was doing this:

Yes, making a snow angel. In the grass, out in the backyard of Number Eight, Crick Road, Oxford, England. It was one week after Easter, and we woke up to a coating of snow over everything.

We built a snowman.

We threw snowballs.

And for a time, we forgot about our massive papers which were due in just a few days.

I remember April 6th of four years ago with great fondness. At my core, I'm a past-dweller. I thrive on nostalgia and happy memories. At times, this can remove me from the present and doom me to wasted hours spent wishing for the good old days. But remembering a day like April 6th, 2008 is inevitable.

Happy Snow Day-iversary!

May there always be snow somewhere on the sixth day of April!