Well, I thought I would hike down to the mailbox today before Doug and I left for ballroom dance lessons at the community center. Philip slid down the hill with me on his BMX bike (on the pine needles which are so slippery I nearly upended on my converse tennies), When I got to the bottom of the hill I realized I had come without the mailbox key so Philip walked his bike back up to get it while I made like a gargoyle on the side of the hill. He came back on the go-cart and gave me a lift to the bottom of the hill; then all the way back to the cabin. Not bad for a woman half a century old. I stood on the back rail and wrapped my body over the roll bars.
Category Archives: Family
Pursuit, Protection, Provision
Think about it for a moment. These three things are present in one way or another in love relationships. When any one of them is missing; the relationship limps and becomes deformed. Pursuit, Protection, and Provision may manifest in many forms; but, always they exist and must be reciprocated for relationship to continue in health.
At the philosophical or spiritual level: God pursues (initiates), protects and provides.
In the realm of traditional courtship the man pursues, protects and provides. The woman reciprocates with Proverbs 31 characteristics. 1) He pursues; she responds with equal warmth and encouragement.2) He protects physically (war or shelter); She protects his reputation3) He provides the income; she provides nourishment through her stewardship of that incomeHe provides home; she provides hearthHe pursues with zeal; she pursues with nurtureHe protects physically, she protects influentially
In a changing world of equality and role reversal; financial reversal or illness she may be the one who earns income and he may be Mr. Mom or a househusband. It may fall her lot to war and shelter and his to nurture, encourage, and steward; but, always there must be reciprocal pursuit, protection and provision.
Tips and Whine from the Vine
Perhaps wine is an unusual subject for me to tackle; since the sum total of my 3 decades of imbibing would probably fill a 10 oz glass; but it so happens that everyone I correspond with regularly has been mentioning the heart healthful benefits of the fermented fruit from the vine. While all my correspondents are in favor of the healthful benefits, it so happens that none of us are particularly enamored of the taste. I quote my SIL: “Oh, got some red from Italy. Sterilized the drain with it–just plain
battery acid. I don’t know, I just don’t think I will ever like wine…” On the heals of her comment came a response from a cousin in the North West who tries to take a little wine for heart health but has never liked the taste of it. I myself always thought wine could do with a lot more sugar. My standard response is that I like about 2 ounces of rosé with a two inch wedge of cheesecake. That’s good for my heart, isn’t it? Last week another SIL sent me a bottle of homemade, vintage 2007; a product of her new hobby and wine-making kit (she grew the grapes herself). Upon uncorking, I was disappointed to find that it didn’t fit in the sweet comforts category any more than the others. A couple of days later I was chatting about all the foregoing wine experiences with an acquaintance of over thirty years who just happens to own a vineyard on the Western slope of Colorado. She passed on some expert wine lore learned from a veteran vintner: Men, it is said, usually prefer red wine because they tend to sip it to the sides of the tongue where it registers sweeter. Women usually find white wines to be sweeter and thus prefer them. This is because white is sweeter when sipped through the middle (across the tongue) as is the habit of women. Simple, but, it makes sense. Apparently my bites of cheesecake cause the red or rose wine to make a detour to the sides. So here is my advice:Ladies, slosh that wine around in your mouth like a man.SJO and DMH, quaff that wine with little less manners and a bit of a redneck attitude and you may enjoy it more.
Labor Day
Andrea 2Originally uploaded by sarahgrace
Labor Day
Happy 19th Birthday, Andrea! You were born on Labor Day in more ways than one.
Unlike your older brother’s narrative which begins, “Mama played the organ at church on the night I was born….” Yours begins with a family Labor Day picnic and two goals regarding your birth: 1) We would make it to the hospital; 2) Your father would be present; both to drive us to the hospital and to attend your birth. Our goals for your impending arrival were made challenging by the fact that we lived 20 minutes from the hospital. “Not to worry,” said the OB, “I am 5 minutes away and I will meet you here.” “Famous last words,” retorted the expectant mother, “I was only five minutes away when Kev was born and the OB was 5 minutes the other direction. Neither of us made it to the hospital.” Goal number two was also challenging. At the beginning of the fiscal year the office manager at the radio station where your father was employed issued an ultimatum, “No days off without two weeks prior notice!” Properly cowed, we sat down and figured as near as possible your arrival date. Let’s see, older brother was three weeks early. Maternal tradition says girl babies are earlier than boy babies. We don’t know whether this baby is a girl or boy. Bingo, we will begin vacation one month prior to due date. Uh, its only a two week vacation, what if the baby is over-due? The radio station staff laughed us to scorn (but made no flexible changes in policy). Radio personalities must be on the air regardless of holiday, but your father’s vacation began that Monday. So, that is how it came about that your dad and I got to attend Labor Day picnic together with my extended family. It was a wonderful outdoor affair with fried chicken and the traditional water fight (sans the pregnant lady) and I did plenty of joking with aunts and family members about how apropos it would be to give birth on labor day. After dusk we picked up the trash, packed up our left over salads and returned to our respective homes. As I climbed into bed around 9:00 PM my water broke. We were on our feet and in the car instantly. Walking in the emergency room door I confronted the receptionist and said, “My water broke, the contractions started in the car and I have babies fast, please admit me immediately.” You were born at 11:05 PM.
Oh, yes, the radio station announced it to the whole listening world the next morning around 6:00 AM. Love you bunches! Always have and always will.
Bitter Sweet and Long Goodbyes
It is on the list of ten things I want to do before I die; this launching of successful, well balanced young adults. Let’s have a moment of applause and a family pat on the back all around as we pack the Subaru to the gills and head off to college. The first semester, tuition and fees, is in the bag; thanks to Andrea’s grade point average, abject need, and 2006 income tax refunds.
Andrea is beside herself with anticipation and also the melancholy of leaving “the band.” I am constantly torn between the euphoria of seeing her do exactly what I have dreamed and scrimped and saved for her to do and losing my daughter who has become my very dear friend and hiking companion over the past year. She is among the last of area college bound freshmen to leave. After a month’s hiatus from June graduation parties; August has seen round after round of long good-byes and going away parties.
The band that meets in my basement has had thoughtful conversations and meditations about breaking up. Rather than keep to a twice weekly practice schedule, they meet and rehearse every available day and feverishly write and arrange new songs. This year’s incoming high school juniors and seniors caught the bus or tried out a parking pass as local schools began yesterday. Philip acted as bus mentor to the neighbor boy who entered middle school (I remember him best as 4 years old). Last year’s seniors have peeled off at a rate of several per week toward Ft. Collins, Greeley, Boulder, Wyoming, and New Mexico. On Friday, Andrea will rise early and depart for Gunnison.
A couple of Sundays ago a male friend popped in to show his pictures from a graduation tour of England. “Let’s see your room, Andrea,” said he. “I wonder if it looks as bad as mine?” Microwaves, small refrigerators, Rubbermaid storage tubs, and boxes of essential supplies are stacked in towers in the domicile of every college bound 18 year old of my acquaintance. Said friend is now hitting the books in New Mexico and by this time next week Andrea’s room will be neat as a pin and ready to serve as guest room – whenever she can catch a ride home.
Bon Voyage, young adults, your independence and responsibility is just beginning!
Wanting Well
Originally uploaded by ein feisty Berg
Wanting Well
There are so many things I WANT to do: take a walk each day for exercise and waist control, finish a sewing project, clean the house thoroughly, write on my two novels, practice all my music instruments…and of course, be working toward the 10 things I want to do before I die.
There is nothing wrong with wanting or strong desire. In fact, the one who has ceased to want anything for oneself and lives only to sacrifice for the dreams and goals, wants and desires, of another has crossed the line into unhealthy co-dependence.
Likewise the one who thinks only of his or her own goals, dreams, and desires; with total disregard for the dreams and needs of those who people the world called ‘family and close friends,’ has tipped the balance toward the unhealthy.
Finding the balance can be a challenge.
She’s Precious!
selah_2Originally uploaded by ein feisty Berg
She is tiny, dark haired, delicate; in short, she IS the embodiment of precious!
Besides being a trendy sounding, up and coming, girl’s name right now, some of you may recognize “Selah” as a Biblical term from Psalms. My translation calls it a “musical term of unknown meaning.” The music teacher in me is fine with that! My pastor and other scholars have said it means, “pause and ponder what you have just read.”
Little Pause and Ponder Musical Term’s full handle (although I perfer Handel) is: Selah Summer Ann. Her full name tells me an entire story. She is the one and only girl and will remain the youngest child. Here is the reason for my interpretation.
Drew’s middle name is Alan (maternal grandfather’s name).
Beau’s middle name is Bradley (paternal grandfather’s name).
Selah’s middle name is Summer Ann (name of maternal grandmother and middle name of paternal grandmother).
There you have it, Friends and Relatives, this little family is complete and I will pause and ponder this blessing of grandmotherhood for at least four more years while Andrea goes to college.
Dear Reader, may your tribe increase; and if your tribe is complete, may your completed tribe truly be a heritage from the Lord.
New Granddaughter
Great job Sarah! Welcome Selah Summer Ann! Your adoring brothers, aunts and uncle, eagerly await holding you and kissing you. Grandma will be there just as soon as she can. You were born at 8:01 AM on the 21st and the train left at 8:05, – trains and babies – you just can’t schedule them.
It was a very GOOD week!
Perhaps it had something to do with the sun, which I got a lot of, since I went camping with daughter Andrea, my Mom and Dad, and my brother and SIL, on Saturday and Sunday.
Maybe it had to do with finally taking a destination train trip. Oh, I’ve taken the train at Central City before, and the one in Moore Washington, and the Utah Heber Creeper; but, last Tuesday I boarded the train for a trip over the Continental Divide, through the beautiful Rockies and on Thursday I enjoyed the return trip as well.
Then again, I did a lot of riding (which I love) and no driving (which I hate). I did a bit of shopping and was inspired to return home and create some “glorified denim,” which was in the neighborhood of $79.00 in the tourist towns and which I will edit and construct for around $20.00.
But, perhaps, just perhaps, it was a good week because I felt empowered; no longer at the mercy of those who manipulate, dictate, or insinuate for power. I am too old not to notice such games and too self-aware to play along.
On Friday, June 29, 2007 I learned that my job of the past 15 months had not been funded for the fiscal year beginning Monday, July 2! I found this out after declining a different job at the same institution which would have paid more and offered benefits and a couple of stress producing features (extended driving, commuting, and quotas); and while in the process of interviewing for yet a third position. I chose not to take the stressful job, packed my office decor and personal items, drove home and booked myself the train ticket. I am 53 and it is OK for me to be decisive and to have a little break after 15 months of non-stop responsibility. It is also OK for me to be intentionally about the business of those 10 things I want to do before I die.
I spent Monday and Tuesday at college orientation with Andrea – this too feeds my spirit, because it is a joy to see the person she has become and to participate in her plans for education and a future.
I am home now–and job hunting, but still savoring the last few days.
The Band that Meets in My Basement
AR BandOriginally uploaded by ein feisty Berg
It is a hobby, it is something I want to do once, it is a goal to reach over and over; it is on the list of 10 things I want to do before I die.
I want to raise and launch healthy, well balanced kids; I have been about the business of raising young musicians since I began teaching piano at the age of 15.
I stood in the back and cheered when I first experienced the tour concert of my oldest in which he was lead vocalist and simultaneous master of drum kit. My heart was full and I remember responding to the anxious queries of other parents, “How can I not be FOR this? If I were 24 and single, that’s exactly what I would love to be doing!” That same son still works in media, making a living for his growing family while continuing to pursue his dreams. Last month my two youngest offspring and an additional band member of Accidental Revenge (the band that meets in my basement) made their way over the mountain to record in the state of the art studio of big brother. The result? A five song CD representing musical and writing talents of three teenagers, age 18 and under. For a sampling of the new brand of music, please click on the Accidental Revenge link to the left – and if its too loud, turn down your volume knob and remember what Kev said of the Bass player, “you should write a song called, ‘Way too nice to be a teenager.’”
May I, as an aging baby-boomer, never say “That’s too loud! I can’t understand the words,” as part of a widening generation gap. If I utter those phrases, let it be for the sake of polishing, honing, and marketing the very best and most commercial product possible from the heart of the emerging generation.