Memorial Day

 Memorial Day, a day to honor and remember all those who have served and/or are serving in our military. It's a good and right thing to do. Our military personnel,  past and present, deserve our thanks and appreciation.
I always think back during this holiday and the others that are for honoring our heroes and our country; 4th of July, Flag Day, Veterans Day...
Our family has been in this country for a very long time. We go back to before the Revolutionary War on both my mother's and my father's side of the family. My father's mother was a card carrying member of the D.A.R....Daughters of the American Revolution. His family is supposed to have come over on the Mayflower. I haven't researched it so I don't know if it's true. My mother's mother applied to the D.A.R. and was accepted...two ancestors fought in the Revolution and one was a POW. She decided not to join because the women in that chapter were all snobs. Does anyone care about all this? Probably not. But I do.
I am a patriot at heart. I'm proud of my family and the military tradition of so many of our relatives. We have family members who served during WWI, WWII, The Viet Nam Conflict, Kosovo/Bosnia, and the current situation in Iraq/Afghanistan in additon to the Revolution. I am proud of them and their dedication to the USA and freedom. They all volunteered. Paul's family also has many who have served in the military, some of them for life.
I often wish there was something practical that I could do to honor their service, besides attending parades and applauding when the different services go by. I feel it's important to do this, and I have taught my children and grandchildren to do the same. We also salute the flag when it goes by, something that fewer and fewer people do...I don't think it's taught anymore. I even get very teary eyed during the National Anthem. (That's a bit embarrasing)

Paul and I decided that one thing we can do is to pay for their meal when we see a soldier or sailor when we go out to eat. So far, that's only happened in Wendy's and McDonald's but it's a great feeling and they are so appreciative. They thank us and say that we don't have to do that, and we thank them and say that they don't have to do what they do either. It's a very small way to express our appreciation.
On Friday, I took Adam to the doctor. Gavin and Maggie were with us. They were all so very good and I told them I would take them for a treat because they had behaved so well. We got our food and sat down to eat. A minute or two after we settled, a sailor came in for lunch. I went back over to they counter and waited until the girl told him the cost, and then said "I've got this" and handed her the cash. She was surprised, and he was too and said "You don't have to do that". I said that was true but I wanted to and he smiled and put his money away.
We chatted for a minute and he told me that he was a recruiter for the Navy, and that he was going to be at the Airshow that weekend. I told him that we had a lot of military service in our family and how much we appreciate our service people. I mentioned Army and Navy, Master Chiefs and a niece who was a helicopter mechanic, went to Sere School, and served in Kosovo. He was surprised and said "You really do know about it, don't you?" I replied that I knew a bit. He thanked me again and we said goodbye, shook hands, and I wished him luck and "God bless you"; he's headed over to Afghanistan when his tour of recruiting is finished in a few weeks.
It's not much, but it's a nice thing to do. And I get to talk to interesting people that I otherwise would never have met. I will probably never meet them again, this side of heaven, but I'm glad to have made their aquaintance, if only for a few minutes. Try it sometime. I bet you'll like it and it will make you smile. You might even feel good for the rest of the day. I did. :0}

Love and Butterflies

Butterflies. Flittery little things, aren't they? Ever tried to catch one? It's not so easy, is it? But are they ever beautiful. In the last several years, Paul and I have have done our best to make the yard attractive to these little fliers. They've come to mean a lot to us, and as I was pondering their presence out back this year, I realized a few things.

Butterflies have had wonderful intrusions into my life for a long time. Today I realized that it's much longer than I thought.
When I was a child, I was taught not to catch them because of the powder on their wings.  My mother told me that if you hold them and too much of the powder comes off on your hands, they won't be able to fly anymore. If I did manage to catch one, there was always a little powder on my fingertips, and I worried that the poor thing wouldn't be safe. But they always flew away when I let them go. So either Mom was wrong or I never managed to remove enough of their powdery coating to prevent flight. I'm glad about that. I remember that I wanted to catch them so that I could get a better look at them. They're so beautiful.

Many years ago, when I was a new believer in Jesus, I was talking with a friend while our kids were napping. We were standing at the fence between our yards. There was a pretty blue butterfly flitting around us and I asked her if she'd ever had one land on her. She said she hadn't. I hadn't either, but remarked how cool that would be and I wished it would happen some time. A moment later, the butterfly landed on the front of my shorts and stayed there for a few minutes while we just marvelled at the crazy coincidence of the situation. That was the first of many times that butterflies were significant in a season of my life. At the time, I didn't recognize that it was a gift from the Lord.
Years later, I had my first go around with a potentially serious health issue. I had a mammogram that looked suspicious. I had a stereotactic biopsy, and then an excisional biopsy. This was over the course of a few weeks time, and Paul and I were anxious for the results. The result was that a precancerous lesion had been removed during the excisional biopsy. Nothing further needed to be done. While we were going through the process, Paul put in new flower borders around our backyard. I had been asking him to do this for a few years, but he likes to have a straight run when he cuts the grass, and just had no vision for my idea. That year he decided to go for it.
Our neighbor Joe saw him digging up the grass and came over to see what he was up to. He went home and came back with his rototiller. So the work was faster and easier and we ended up with twice as much border as we originally intended. Then Joe asked if we'd like some butterfly bushes. He had too many and was going to pull them out. I said yes, and so he gave us four good sized plants and told us how to care for them. They flowered in a few weeks and we had more butterflies than we'd ever had in any other summer. Paul bought me a beautiful bracelet for my birthday, with butterflies linked together all around it. They had become very special to us. Butterflies reminded us of the goodness of God, the generousity of friends, and our love for each other. Every year since then we've added more flowers that attract them, and avoid using poisons in the yard. 

I've been trying to write a book and not been very diligent about finishing the project. The Lord has faithfully encouraged me, and even sent butterflies to keep me company and amuse me while I was working on it last summer. We have some small, quick varieties that are called skippers. There are two color variations, I think. They remind me of miniature Harrier jets, because of the way their wings stand up. One afternoon, as I was researching and writing while sitting on the steps of our small porch outside the back door, one little flier came and perched on my knee. It sat facing me and looked right at my face. It was most distracting. I had to pay attention to it, and talked to it until it flew away. I went back to my work, thanking God for sending it. It came back again. I stopped working and watched it; it was sitting in almost that same spot on my knee that it was the first time. I thanked it for coming and told it it was welcome to visit again, but that I needed to get back to work, no matter how cute it was or how much I enjoyed its company. It flew away again, but returned three more times! Each time it sat in very nearly the exact spot it had been the first time, looking right into my face. On a few other days last summer, I had other varieties of butterflies land on me. I just love that. It blesses me. One afternoon when I was sitting near the pool and Paul and Adam were swimming, there were two yellow swallowtails that kept flying around me, and one briefly landed on my head. The guys thought that was pretty funny! (I don't wear perfume in the summer, so that isn't the reason.) Why does this happen? I can't say for sure, but I think the Lord has just been showing me His love and encouragement, and using something that I can't miss. Whatever the reason, I really enjoy the visits, and maybe they do too. Thank you, Father. I love my gifts.

these are silver-spotted skippers on a stonecrop flower in my front yard

Is It As Big As Uncle Mike?

"Everything is relative". I have heard people say this, and have said it myself. It's very true. I've been thinking today about how my grandson Gavin relates big things to his uncle.

 My son-in-law Mike is 6'5". That's rather tall by anyone's standards, but according to Gavin, that's REALLY BIG. Whenever you talk about something as being really big, he'll ask, "Is it as big as Uncle Mike?"  You can tell him that it's as big as the car, or as big as the dog, or as big as the house or anything else relative from your point of view, but he will ask again, "Yeah, but is it as big as Uncle Mike?" He relates large size to his uncle because Gavin is only 5 years old, and to him, Uncle Mike is a giant.  My daughter told me a story of how one time, in a store, they saw a man who was at least 7 feet tall. Gavin asked, "But is he as tall as Uncle Mike?" There was no explaining to him that the man was taller than Mike, because no one is taller than Uncle Mike! As far as Gavin is concerned, Mike is the biggest person he's ever seen. I love this exchange whenever it happens, because it is just so typical of kids to cut to the heart of a matter in accordance with their perspective of things. Uncle Mike knows this about Gavin too, and he is really gentle and tender-hearted toward him, and squats down as low as he can to relate to Gavin face-to-face. There's no fear between them, so please don't misunderstand what I'm relating here. I'm simply talking about perspective.

Sometimes things seem so big to us,  we can't believe we can deal with them. There doesn't seem to be any way to get over the mountain to a better place.  A person we're dealing with is too overpowering for us.  A situation is more than we can handle.

"There are giants in the land", came the report from some of the spies that were sent to check out the Promised Land before God's people went in to occupy the territory. You can read about this in the bible in the book of Numbers, chapter 13. Ten of the twelve who were sent to check out the territory before God's people went there, came back with a report that the food was great but the people were too big."there are men of great stature"  "There we saw the giants.." Num. 13:32 They were afraid to go in to the place that the Lord was sending them to as their new home. Two came back with a good report, that the food was great and that they were able to go in and take the land. " The LORD is with us. Do not fear them." Num.14:9
How big is your giant? How high is your mountain? To what do you compare your circumstances?
Are you like Gavin, who relates everything larger than he can imagine to the one person who is the biggest he's ever seen? Mike is literally two times taller than Gavin is, and outweighs him by more than two hundred pounds. That's really big to a five year old.
But if you're reading this, you're probably not a five year old. So to what do you compare your problems? What is bigger than you can deal with? How high is your mountain? How big is your giant?
There's another story in the bible about a boy who dealt with a giant. That one was named Goliath and he was 9 feet tall! The boy who faced him in combat was probably only 5and a half feet tall or so...he couldn't wear the king's armor that would have protected him, because it was too big for him.  Turns out he didn't need it anyway. He went out in the power of the LORD and killed his enemy with a sling and a stone.
Perhaps your perspective comes from previous experience, much like Gavin's perspective comes from what he knows. But you're not 5 years old any more, and maybe it's time to develop some new ways of relating to your circumstances. Things aren't always as they seem. Mountains can be climbed, gone around, or tunneled through. People can be related to from a different point of view than you're currently holding. Giants are only as big as you allow them to be. Problems can often be solved if you're willing to look at them differently and maybe even ask for a little help.
Gavin and Mike. One small, one tall.  Gavin won't always relate big things to Uncle Mike. But for now, he does, and I love it. It's one of those priceless things of childhood that you hope you don't forget. I hope this blesses you today. Peace and blessings to you and yours. Hold them close while you can.

It's Nurses' Week: Thanks, Mom

 My Mom was a nurse back in the days when the only specialty care unit was the ICU. No CCU, no burn units, nothing. They did it all. They treated their patients with patience and kindness and skill. They held hands, soothed foreheads, changed beds, fed those who couldn't feed themselves. They gave meds, did paperwork, and drank gallons of coffee to stay awake on the graveyard shift. Nurses aides were just as valuable as the nurses. One of my mom's friends who was an aide went on to college and became a nurse herself. They were life long friends and occasionally defied doctors.

There was no jewelry allowed to be worn except for their wedding bands. No nail polish either, and they wore their caps every day.The different nursing schools and programs each had their own cap design. Dresses were pure white and so were their stockings and shoes.They could wear only white sweaters when they were cold. Mom wore a timex with a sweep second hand. She had her own stethoscope, and she covered the metal parts with I.V. tubing because she was allergic to the metal. I remember when ear piercing became popular, and all the girls in her unit pierced each others' ears.They all wore their hair in such a way as to cover their ears. Before long, the hospital looked the other way; times were changing. But nothing dangling, please. Post or small hoops only.

As time went by and things changed even more, the nurses began to wear scrubs; they were hospital issue and the women wore their uniforms to work and changed when they got there. But they still wore their white shoes. I remember how there would be liittle black stains on the toes of my mother's shoes whenever she had a burn patient. They were treated with silver nitrate, and she often got splashed during dressing changes. I won't describe the treatments, but she would speak about it and it always bothered her. I could listen to her tell ICU stories for hours. When I was about 16, I remember sitting in the kitchen with her when she would come home from work in the morning; I learned so much at that table. My older sister has it now. If it could speak..... I have the earrings she wore to work every day; what a treasure they are to me!
One of the hardest things she ever had to do was to care for my older brother when he smacked his motorcycle into a telephone pole. He entered the ICU as a head trauma patient and remained in a coma for 10 days. He had a serious brain stem injury. She went to work every day and refused to take the leave for family personal needs that was offered to her. Who would care for her son better than she would? Under her expert care and mother's love, my brother survived his accident and went to a rehab facility for further treatment.
After nearly 18 years as an ICU nurse, my mom decided she had enough of trauma and death, and transferred to OB-GYN. She wanted to finish her career in the place of life and new beginings. She absolutely loved it there, and retired after 7 more years of service to others. Great job, Mom! You rocked your world.

 Nurses are truly heroic...if you are blessed to know one, hug her or him, and give them an extra one from me!