Behold…

May 14, 2012 in Love with 1 Comment

He said most of us do not understand what the word really means. We think it means something like, “Hey, check this out!”

He said, Imagine a mother holding her newborn baby. Observe her gaze. See how her face softens. She can’t stop looking at him. She is not evaluating him. She is delighting in him. Drinking him in…

And the baby, he said, gazes at her. He has no words. But something very palpable travels to him in that gaze. Something that fortifies him. Something that will make him strong, and help him know who he is.

Behold is like that, he said.

This is what happens when I sit in silence with God. I behold Him, and He beholds me. And words are not needed. But something very palpable passes between us. Delight. Deep knowing. And I begin to understand who I am. Who I really am.

And this silence, this communion with God, becomes something I carry inside me. And it perfumes everything. It informs everything. And I see differently. I am different.

Contemplation is the highest expression of man’s intellectual and spiritual life. It is that life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is spiritual wonder. It is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being…

~Thomas Merton

*A liberal translation of the teaching of Ian Cron at #Luminous12
**Personal prerogative: photograph is Kelsey and Kenzie. I made the baby in the story a boy because it reads more cleanly.

Seemingly Unnecessary…

April 24, 2012 in Beauty with 17 Comments

She covered her walls with newspaper to keep out the cold. Her quilt patterns were cut from her children’s arithmetic papers. I still wear her pink apron, made of flour sacking. Much repaired with fine, meticulous stitches.

She was a Depression era bride. In Appalachia. Of necessity, she became a master in the art of stretch. Of making things go further than one thought they might.

Into this austere life of thrift, she wove strands of beauty. Seemingly unnecessary. But, I imagine, very necessary.

We all grew up sleeping under her quilts. Her children. Her grandchildren. Even her great-grandchildren. I have thought of her often while working on a  quilt for my grandbaby. Of the love she poured into every stitch. Of the joy she must have felt as she watched something so lovely grow under her hands.

I have dragged her peonies with me to multiple houses over the years. She loved peonies. Every year she would haul wheelbarrows of manure from the cowshed to nourish those beauties. It is a fitting metaphor, perhaps. Coaxing something exquisite out of something lowly. Like weaving gold from straw…

I have pillow cases that she embroidered. I try to think when she had the time. She drew her water from a well. Raised, dried, and canned everything they ate. And cooked it on a woodburning stove. She did not have indoor plumbing til long after I was born. What was it that compelled her to carve a space in her life, in the lives of her family, for something pretty?

It is this that stitches my heart to hers. This necessity of loveliness. This imprint of the Creator.

My grandmother has been absent the earth for just over 18 years. But in a week or so, her peonies will open again. Their stems will nod from the weight of the luscious blossoms. Tonight, someone she loves will sleep under a quilt she stitched some winters back. And it’s very likely that today, some one of her progeny will weave a little extra beauty into a humble task. Seemingly unnecessary. But, I imagine, very necessary.

One

April 15, 2012 in Love with 3 Comments

You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. ~Psalm 139:13-14

She plowed into her cake with both hands. To the delight of all onlookers. Some of them invited guests. Family. Friends. Some of them total strangers who just could not stop watching her.

It is how she does everything. With abandon. All in. Her world is a wondrous place. So much to discover. To taste and handle. To see and smell. To climb up and slide down. I am learning a great deal from her.

This has been a year fraught with discovery. Of fraternizing with ducks. Of handling wiggly, squiggly earthworms. Of burying toes in the dirt. Of blossoms and birds. Of butterflies and balls.

It has been about moving slowly and looking long. It has been prayer and play, sunshine and storms. It has been music, and dancing, and making friends.

We have been stretched. All of us. We are learning to see the world with new eyes. Again. We are remembering how to play. We laugh. A lot. There has been more snuggling than I can recount. I have read Goodnight Moon, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Five Little Ducks, and Chicka Chicka Boom Boom approximately a million times. Each. And every day, I watch a little life unfurling before my eyes. Like a blossom. And it is the most magical thing I have ever been privileged to witness. And I keep wondering how I got so lucky.

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!! I love you to the moon and back. God grant you many, many years!!

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ~Jeremiah 29:11

Reckless

April 12, 2012 in Faith, Grace with 0 Comments

It was such a desperate thing to do.

Reckless.

Extravagant.

She had probably bought the perfume for her own burial. How many times had she sold her body to earn the money?

I wonder how it felt to walk into the room. I suppose she had grown accustomed to the whispers. “Righteous” people leaning away so that she would not soil them by a brush of her garments. Little children throwing stones.

Where did she find the courage? How did she know He would understand?

It was such a desperate thing to do.

Reckless.

Indignant.

Fed up with forgiveness, peace, grace. Disillusioned.

He condemned the woman for her waste.

Then he sold his friend.

For the price of a slave.

I wonder how it felt to walk into the garden. I suppose he had grown accustomed to feeling important. Necessary. People making way for him. Following his cues.

Did the silver in his pockets suddenly make him feel heavy? And sick? And small?

When the sinful woman was offering her spice, the disciple was making a bargain with the transgressors of the law. The one rejoiced in pouring out the spice so great in price, while the other hastened to sell the Priceless One. The one knew the Master, the other was separated from the Lord. She was freed and Judas became a slave to the enemy. Indifference is evil, but great is repentance. The latter grant to us, O Savior, and redeem us…

Ah for the wretchedness of Judas! For, seeing the adultress kiss the traces of His feet, he was thinking with deceit of the kiss of betrayal. She loosed her braids, and he was bound with wrath, offering instead of spice, rotted evil; for envy knoweth not how to honor anything which is good. Woe to the wretchedness of Judas, and save from it our souls, O God.

I know Judas all too well. I know what it is to be critical and self-righteous, frustrated and confused. To defiantly seek my own way. To be so blinded by my own expectations and demands that I cannot see the gifts before me.

And I know the fallen woman. I know what it is to be broken, desperate, despised, wrecked. I know what it is to fall on my face and wail, “If you reject me, I am without hope! I am lost!” To recognize that the most beautiful parts of me are rubbish unless He makes them clean. Unless He makes me clean.

It is gift to be wrecked.

To be undone.

O Lord God, the woman who had fallen into many sins, having perceived Thy divinity, received the rank of ointment-bearer, offering Thee spices before Thy burial. Wailing and crying: Woe is me, for the love of adultery and sin hath given me a dark and lightless night. Accept the fountains of my tears, O Thou Who drawest the waters of the sea by the clouds. Incline Thou to the sighing of my heart. O Thou Who didst bend the heavens by Thine inapprehensible condescension; I will kiss Thy pure feet and I will wipe them with my tresses. I will kiss Thy feet Whose tread when it fell on the ears of Eve in Paradise dismayed her so that she did hide herself because of fear. Who then shall examine the multitude of my sin and the depth of Thy judgment? Wherefore, O my Savior and the Deliverer of my soul, turn not away from Thy handmaiden. O Thou of boundless mercy.

*All quotes in the post are from the Bridegroom Matins service of the Orthodox Church as sung on Tuesday evening of Holy Week. The passage immediately above is the Hymn of Kassiani. Kassiani was a poet, composer and hymn writer in 9th century Constantinople. She is the saint I received upon entering the Orthodox church. I liked her upon first encountering her, but it is this hymn that indelibly knit my heart to hers.

 

Pura Vida: A Travelogue, part the second

April 7, 2012 in Beauty with 2 Comments

15 March: The streams look for all the world like Tennessee streams, so familiar to me. But they are HOT! Heated underground by the same fire that melts the rock, that sends flumes of smoke into the air, that cloaks the mountain in lava. The steam rises against lush foliage and tropical blossom. Unseen speakers add a flute serenade to the trickle of water, the sound of birds.

I sink into the warm. I feel it stitching together something broken. I imagine scenes in movies where wounds are miraculously healed. And I know this magic is happening inside me. Somehow. The warm swims around me, while cool breezes blow over me. Blossoms nod in the breeze and birds sing. And I wonder if there is a limit to how much delight one person can handle. I feel perilously close to that threshold…

In the afternoon, we visit the volcano that heats our springs. We are “greeted” at the entrance by a Coati. Costa Rica’s answer to the raccoon. :)

Before the afternoon is over, we will encounter Maggie Jays, White faced Capuchin Monkeys, a Coral snake, a Ceibo tree large enough to drive a truck through, and rugged beauty that will slay us.

Most remarkable is the old lava flow. Out of this black, arid landscape grow delicate, voluptuous lilies. It is impossible to reconcile this in my mind. I breathe it in. I take photographs, trying to make it real. It is paradox. Beauty from ashes. This, I know. I have known it intimately. In my own life. I belong here. This field…of waste…of refuse…of inexplicable wonder. This…is…me.

The view from here is astonishing. Arenal volcano in one direction, and Lake Arenal in the other. I would stay here. Linger. In the in-between. There is much to know in this place.  A knowing that has little to do with words. And much to do with being overwhelmed. Undone. A knowing that grows inside. Gradually. A knowing stitched together of stones and lilies and breeze and vastness and exposure and being alone, but not alone. Of being…small….

Pura Vida: A Travelogue, part the first

April 5, 2012 in Beauty with 1 Comment

13 March: We careen around hairpin curves, up and up and up….until we reach the summit, and plunge headlong into the next valley. The landscape undulates like a quilt pressed in from the edges. One mountain crowds against the next. And the hillsides are covered in coffee plants. They line themselves up in stepped plantings that make me think of rice terraces in Asia. They stretch far as the eye can see, barely kept in bounds by fence-rows of palms.

The houses we pass are modest, but neat. Tucked into the side of the hill. With bougainvillea clambering over the walls and hibiscus growing wild in the yard. It is a world of green, punctuated by shots of color: magenta, fuchsia, violet, fiery orange, saffron, and crimson.

The air blowing in at the windows cools. And it carries water. I can feel it against my face. We have reached the cloud forest. In the beginning, it reminds me of a foggy morning in Franklin. But not for long…

Our driver deposits us at The Peace Lodge, our home for the next two days. It will not be long enough. Here we have our first experience with a synergy we will see over and over in Costa Rica. Artists come alongside the extraordinary natural beauty rampant in this little remnant of Eden, and craft something organic and lovely that belongs…that becomes an integral part of the place.

It is the pure life ethos of this exceptional people. “Pura vida!” It is greeting and farewell. It is bravo and well-done. But mostly, it is a way of being. A clean, vital embrace of joy, along with a conscientious care for their stewardship of paradise.

After wandering about for a while, all agog, mouth hanging open, in the bit of heaven that will pass for our lodging here, we decide to go for an explore. We meander down a trail that leads us into a jungle paradise of plunging waterfalls, lush foliage, and sumptuous blossoms. Every turn in the path is a new vista. A new intake of breath. Astonishing extravagance. And I am having a difficult time believing this is real. That I am here. Only in dreams are colors this vibrant; peace this thoroughly undiluted.

Tonight we will sleep in the cloud forest, doors thrown open to a lullaby of birdsong and cascading water.

We will awake to feed the hummingbirds. To feel the ferocity of their wings as they soar over our heads. To study the intricacy of their feathers and marvel at their beauty. We will feast on gallo pinto, plantains, fresh sweet papaya and pineapple, tamarind juice, soft cheese, agua dulce (a warm, sweet drink made from sugar cane and milk), and rich, dark Costa Rican coffee. We will keep company with butterflies, toucans, frogs, monkeys, sloths, and snakes. And we are only beginning…..

Dear Joshua,

April 2, 2012 in Love with 4 Comments

We almost missed you, you know. For a while, dad and I thought maybe two kids were enough. We even started selling some of the baby gear. But then this feeling started growing in my heart. That someone was missing. Not everyone was here, yet. The decision was never about having a third child. It was about having you. The moment I held you in my arms, I knew our family was complete.

Just think of all we would have missed, if we had missed you, my love…..

Curiosity

All of life is one great explore for you. When we travel, it takes you only a few minutes to scope out the hotel room and find out where all the drawers are and what is in them. When we hike, you run on ahead. Or shinny up rocks and trees so you can take in the view. You take things apart. You experiment. You play. And our world is bigger because of you.

Celebration

I sometimes wish you could have had one of those mommies who make every occasion grand. That would be so fun for you. Instead, you are the one who transforms our porch for Halloween. You are the one who insists we put out all the nativity sets, and Santas, and angels…. You are the one who wraps our staircase in lights and garland. I thought I was crazy about Christmas til I met you. You have me beat. :) Thank you for making life a party. For knowing that memories are a lacing together of one extraordinary moment after another.

Creativity

The most modest of meals becomes a feast when you put your hand to it. From the candles and flowers to the artful plating, you understand that a meal should delight ALL the senses. You bring this same creativity to your acting, your singing and your writing. I love watching you when an idea is forming itself in your head. I love how words tumble over one another as it bubbles out of you. Most recently, I have seen this creativity in your songwriting. Deep, poignant lyrics that pierce my heart. I look forward to watching you cultivate this gift in years to come. Thank you for a life sprinkled–yay verily, doused–with beauty.

Courage

I hardly think anyone can miss how much you have grown this year. Six or seven inches of vertical gain are difficult to overlook. And a man face now houses the eyes that used to belong to my little boy. But I think the most significant growth has been less obvious. Because it has happened inside.

Time after time this year you have put yourself out there, stepping into new situations–new school, new sport, new friendships, etc…. You acknowledge your fear, then plunge right into it. I can not tell you how proud I am of you. When you record your original songs and put them out there for your friends (and total strangers, for that matter) to see, I wonder what happened to that little boy with the practiced “shy look” who did not want to be noticed. When you dream audacious dreams, the mom in me wants to protect you and bid you set your sights a little more humbly. But you are teaching me with your courage. You make me want to be as brave as you.

Charity

Your kindness, your generosity, your intuition, your uninhibited displays of affection; these are gifts to everyone who knows you. They have been gift to me. I have loved watching you with your little niece this year. She adores you. I’m not surprised. ;) I know you would give her the world if you could. Instead, you give her stuffed animals, dolls, clothes, books, toys… More importantly, you give her yourself. Your time. Your undivided attention. Your joy. This she loves about you. This I love about you. I know so much more about what it means to give myself away because of you. Thank you for that.

Dear son of mine, when I looked into your precious face for the first time fifteen years ago, I could not imagine how much richer, how much bigger, how much more fun my world was about to become. Thank you for being you. And thank you for letting me be your mommy.

Happy Birthday, Joshua!!

I love you!

God grant you many, many years!

*Photo at the top of the post: Josh with his cousins Anna and Ethan. (Thanks, Uncle Monty!)
**Photo at the bottom: Josh with his beautiful (inside and out) friends Gatlin and Jessie (Thank you, ladies!)

Postcards from Paradise…

March 24, 2012 in Beauty with 2 Comments

The words will come.

I know it.

But, just now, they are flying around, frantically, in and out of my head…a confusion of thoughts and impressions, remembrances and moments, ecstasies and and quiet reveries, that refuse to be contained or given shape and I don’t even know where to start or which ones go together or if you even want to hear them or if I’ve already talked about it enough and does it really matter in the scheme of things or should I just move on and only bore my family with the stories and anecdotes or would it be fun for you to have a glimpse into our week in Eden and our frolic amongst some of God’s most brilliant handiwork….

So….until I can get a handle on the words…and stop writing ridiculous run-on sentences…(Who do I think I am? Hemingway?)…I thought I would share with you a few favorite photographs. I took around 700 over the 9 days we were away. On my phone. That doesn’t include the ones on the camera or video camera. I have not even uploaded those yet. Nor does it account for the several experiences, like zip-lining or white-water rafting, where we took no photos at all.

But Costa Rica is one of the most visually stunning places I have ever visited. It seams a fitting place to begin.

Blue Morpho Butterfly on Bougainvillaea

Photograph taken at La Paz Waterfall Gardens, though we saw an abundance of these magnificent creatures in the wild. Bougainvillaea was also plentiful, covering hillsides with abandon. Glorious extravagance!

Green Crowned Brilliant Hummingbird

Hand feeding these beauties was one of the highlights of our trip. To study them up close. To feel the power of their wings as they soared past our faces. Remarkable!! (Blow this one up and have a closer look. The detail of her feathers is astonishing.)

Violet Sabrewing

I confess, this little fellow stole my heart. I am crazy mad about purple. And the peculiar hue of his feathers is positively captivating. (Note how my phone portrayed the fury of his wings.)

Lily

This graceful beauty pushed its way out of the old lava flow at the base of Arenal Volcano. The stark contrast of elegance against raw, aridity is compelling. A visual lesson in beauty from ashes.

Lavender Lilies Against Arenal

I had to scale a bit of an escarpment to get to these. It was worth it. The delicate lavender of the blossoms against the deep blue cone of Arenal wounded me with their loveliness.

Harbor at Quepos

Restricted color palette. A quiet oasis amidst unrelenting exuberance. Every time I look at it, my heart flutters. The stillness. How it washes over me. Softly. Can’t explain…

Water and Sky, Framed

I am embarrassed to say how many photographs I have of precisely this shot. I was infatuated. I couldn’t stop watching the play of the spray against the indigo sky as set off by their rugged frame.

Study in Blue

The architecture of the gnarled trunk against the assortment of blues delights me.

Pretty in Purple

I’m a sucker for purple. Perhaps I mentioned that. I suppose that’s why I spotted these, hidden underneath a big leafy bush. Like they were an accident or something. Such intricacy of form, such deliberate detail, in blossoms no more than 3 inches across! SomeONE takes great joy in making things lovely. Even those that will often go unseen…

*In case you are wondering, I do not know why the vertical photos are not centered. They made that determination themselves and, despite my best efforts, will not relent. It bothers me more than I can, or should, say. Especially in a post given to the beautiful. Alas, I have no technical skills. So imagine a perfectly centered and pleasingly arranged post. Will ya? :)

23

March 20, 2012 in Faith, Grace, Love with 1 Comment

Wedding

Twenty-three years ago two children promised to love “until death…”  It was folly, really.  They were babies.  He was 22.  She was 20.  They had known one another 9 months.  What were they thinking? They had no idea what they were getting themselves into…

Twenty-three years.  Three babies.  Better or worse. Eight homes.  Thousands of miles traveled.  Richer or poorer. Hundreds of acquaintances.  A precious handful of really close friends.  Sickness and Health. Six dogs.  One cat.  An infinity of memories and moments…

I was the wide-eyed, innocent girl.  And that naively optimistic boy has loved me better than I deserve.  I owe him a thousand ‘thank you’s.  But today, I will offer him twenty-three.  Twenty-three thank yous for twenty three years.

1.  Thank you for loving me all the time, no matter what.  I know it hasn’t been easy.  And I don’t pretend to understand it.  But I am grateful, all the same.

2.  Thank you for being a fellow gypsy.  I have so many beautiful memories of our family, and of the two of us, in remarkable locales all over the world.  Thank you for watching all those Rick Steves videos with me and listening to me wag on incessantly about mind-numbing minutia.  You are a very good sport.

3.  Thank you for being the sane one.  I have never been qualified for the role.  It has been nice to know that while I flit about erratically, experiencing my ecstatic highs and my abysmal lows, that somewhere there is a tether of sanity that will never let me be completely lost.

4.  Thank you for providing for our family.  I don’t say it enough.  How do I tell you what it has meant to be home with our little ones as they grew up?  To witness the little miracles and discoveries.  To teach them.  To open the world for them.  To read and play.  I could never have done that without you.  It means more than I can say.

5.  Thank you for surrendering your suspicious nature with regard to food.  Does this sound familiar? “I don’t like that.”  “Really, how have you had it prepared?”  Oh, I’ve never eaten it, but I don’t like it.”  Or this?  “I just can’t eat squash.  I don’t like the name.”  :)   Thank you for triumphing over your fear to become a fellow culinary explorer.  And thank you for understanding how much it means to me to eat artfully prepared food in a beautiful place.

6.  Thank you for being god of all things technological at our house.  Thank you for providing me the opportunity to remain blissfully ignorant and still have computers, phones, iPods, etc… that work.  :)

7.  Thank you for our beautiful piano.  Thank you for buying it when we were so poor.  When we had nothing, you knew I needed a piano in my home.  So many hours of pleasure and therapy it has given me.  And, of course, as each of our children has grown up playing, the joy continues to multiply…exponentially.

8.  Thank you for being a godly man.  You haven’t done it for me.  But it does matter to me.  I respect and admire your integrity and your piety.

9.  Thank you for every art museum you have traipsed through with me.  I know sometimes you did it entirely as a gift to me.  But it seems to me that over the years you have developed your own affinity for them.  Sort of.  ;)

10.  Thank you for all the made up words you sing to songs.  I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at first.  Being a neurotic first born who needs things to be right, and who happens to remember every lyric she has ever heard, I cringed at your inaccuracies.  But over the years, I have come to prefer your…ahem…creative take on things.  You make me laugh.

11.  Thanks for Pikes Peak.  I know you thought I was crazy at first.  But you were unwilling to let me be crazy all by myself.  Thanks for all those trail runs at the Warner Parks as we prepared.  For slanting rays of sunlight, wild flowers, chipmunks, deer, squirrels.  Those still comprise some of my very favorite running memories.

12.  Thank you for indulging my passion for books.  I am a pretty thrifty shopper with my Goodwill/clearance rack wardrobe, but I do go a little crazy with books.  Thank you for understanding how important they are to me and for not cutting up my credit card or exiling me from Amazon.

13.  Thank you for spending New Years Eve in Times Square with Kelsey.  What a glorious memory that will always be for her.  I know your bladder will probably never be the same, but thank you for giving her that gift.

14.  Thank you for snow boarding with Jake, and for dozens of cub scout camping trips with both of the boys.  Thank you for teaching them how to be men.

15.  Thank you for taking care of all things financial on behalf of our family.  Thank you that I never have to worry my pretty little head about that.  I trust you. I have complete confidence in your ability and your judgment.  That is a wonderful feeling.

16.  Thank you for opening your heart to Orthodoxy.  I know that each of us has walked our own road to the Orthodox faith, and that it means something distinctly different to each of us.  But I am delighted that we were able to go there together.  I look forward to uncovering the riches of our faith over years and years to come.

17.  Thank you for your generosity.  Thank you that, even when we had nothing, we gave to others.  I remember the first budget you drew up for us.  I remember that the first line item was our tithe.  It was never open for negotiation.  I also remember that it was your goal for us to increase, not just the amount of our giving to others, but the percentage of our giving each year.  This we have done.  I believe God has honored that, and I highly esteem you for it.

18.  Thank you for loving my family.  Thank you that I have never had to choose between them and you.

19.  Thank you for Bill Cosby, Himself.  I love the DVD.  But I have always loved watching you watch it even more.  When you start laughing so hard you can hardly breathe, it doesn’t really matter any more what he is saying.  It’s funny.

20  Thanks for being my partner in the delightful, magical, terrifying, difficult, bewildering, wonderful adventure of parenting.  It has been (and continues to be) the most challenging and most rewarding experience of my life.  You have been a worthy partner in crime.

21.  Thank you for forgiveness.  Seventy times seventy times seventy times seven times.  I wish I didn’t require it so often.  I hope there is still more where that came from.

22.  Thank you for memories.  Thanks for jokes only our family knows.  Thanks for the stories and experiences that have become so much a part of the warp and weft of who we are we don’t know where they begin and end.

23.  Thank you for loving me all the time, no matter what. I know I already said that.  But it is the most important thing.  You have astounded me with your relentless love for me.  I have fought it sometimes.  Sometimes I didn’t even want it.  And I know I don’t deserve it.  “And this is love, not that we loved God, but that He first loved us…” Thanks for showing me what that looks like.

I love you…always.

Family2

*Photo at the bottom of the post copyright Angela Davis.

Of What Value, a Life?

March 18, 2012 in Beauty, Faith, Love with 3 Comments

We laid her body to rest on a cool, clear summer morning.  Blackberries were just beginning to ripen along the fence rows.  Sweet pea blossoms nodded in the breeze.  The whir of insects, and the intermittent gossip of birds, supplied the only sounds.  The cemetery was an island of green in a great field of freshly mown hay, lying in strips, waiting to be gathered into bundles of winter sustenance.

I remember walking down there with my grandmother as a little girl to visit the graves of our forebears and to share stories.  And now she will sleep there in those mountains where she raised her babies…where she rose in the pre-dawn hours and walked with my grandpa to the dairy barn that provided their livelihood…where she carved a garden out of the earth, then preserved its yield so that her family need never be hungry…where her table was always laden with good things, and her chicken and dumplings were the stuff of legend.

She welcomed her grandchildren (and later her great grandchildren) to this world apart.  It was a life of simple elegance.  You could see a million stars in the night sky, and almost as many lightening bugs hovering over the fields.  There were barns, and corn cribs, and old pieces of forgotten road to explore. Here the dogs frequently smelled of skunk, and the water smelled of the iron that was heavy in their well. And when the summer heat was too much, there was a deep swimming hole nearby that was always cold.  Life was slow here.  And good. We got snowbound one Christmas.  It was the best Christmas ever.

“Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord…they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.”  Revelation 14:13

I have pondered this verse since the minister shared it at her funeral.  Even though she now abides in the Presence, I know that she has left bits and pieces of herself in us.  As I contemplate her legacy, the deeds that follow, here are some of the traits that live most vividly in my recollection, and I hope live, at some level, in me.

Extravagant Love She and my grandpa were married 71 years.  That, in itself, would be quite a feat.  The beautiful thing is that they were still crazy about each other.  He used a different voice when he spoke to her than he used with anyone else.  I have seen Grandpa teary before, but never in my life have I heard him sob……until yesterday.  He has lost his sweetheart.

All of us who sat on her porch yesterday, who gathered around grandpa and sang away the afternoon, have been the grateful recipients of that love.  That doesn’t mean she was oblivious to our faults.  She never hesitated to offer words of correction or advice when she felt they were warranted.  But she found ways to make each of us feel as though we had some singular value, as though we were special.

Exceptional Vitality She tilled her garden until she was in her 80s.  Quite frankly, I am in awe of that.  My mom laughed about the fact that when Grandma went along with the sisters on summer vacations they thought she would give them an excuse to move slowly.  They were wrong.  She and my grandpa visited my aunt in Germany when I was a teenager.  And I still have fond memories of a trip our whole family, grandparents included, made to the beach after I was already married.  Hers was a vitality of mind as well.  Always learning, always curious.

Perhaps this was one of the hardest things about watching as both body and mind betrayed her after her stroke.  We knew the vivacious woman who lived inside.  And even within the confines of a body that no longer did everything she asked it to, those sparks of ebullience, of wit and good humor, still emerged from time to time.

Extraordinary Generosity The line of mourners stretched across the room, down the hall, and out the door at times.  So many people loved her and came to say so.  She had given of herself to them…encouragement, advice, understanding, sympathy, courage.  Some of them she had taught, others she had fed, driven, served, mentored.  Grandma had a way of seeing people others do not see and drawing them into her loving embrace.  My daughter is very like her in this.  I loved hearing their stories.

“How does someone who lived so simply leave such a hole?” my cousin Amy asked through her tears.  My grandma was not famous.  I’ll warrant you have never heard her name.  But every life that intersected hers was made richer by her presence.  I would take that over being famous any day.  She lived a quiet life of ordinary, extraordinary beauty.  And that is profoundly valuable.  I am blessed to have known her.

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