Many Little Yesses

Some weeks ago I overheard a friend of mine describing her current life as "a summer of many little yesses". In looking back over the past few months, I feel like I could steal her intriguing phrase to describe my summer, too. I've decided to post a bunch of pics here to illustrate what some of those yesses have been. 

In June, July, and August, I have said yes to...

...a change of age:             

It's pretty special to have relatives who go all out celebrating a sis-in-law's birthday at a cabin they have rented by the lake. 

It's also pretty special to have a relative - specifically, a son named Ricky - who goes all out creating a unique birthday cake with which to surprise his mom. A Boggle-lover like me will appreciate the cake's likeness to a real Boggle game tray, and the way the letters join each other in true Boggle fashion to spell Happy Birthday, Mom. (Click here to watch Ricky's fun video of the cake-making process.)

...babysitting a certain little chap: 

...garden and porch and patio parties:

The spread at an annual garden party, where the dishes are as varied and beautiful and enjoyed as the seven ladies who bring them. 

My friend and walking buddy "Debbie" and I were the recipients of a delightful tea time put on by my mom-in-law. My, but she knows how to turn a little get-together into a treat!

A wonderful thing about the start of Covid restrictions being lifted is that we can host backyard gatherings again, legally. Three of my sisters-in-law & co. came one evening in July to help celebrate their bro Ken's birthday. Lots of opinions, laughter, and food were shared in this circle.

...trying my hand at watercolor painting:

...a church biking social:

...strolls on trails and along beaches:

...welcoming Kerra back into home life:

One evening Kerra made and served us green shakshuka, an African (or Israeli?) dish of eggs poached in sauteed herbs and other greens, which we quite enjoyed. 

...making food and enjoying other people's food:

A few times this summer I have made a Spinach Pasta salad. The thought of putting greens and pasta in the same salad was intriguing to me, and after trying it, I can now recommend it as a great combination. The fruit and cashews have something to do with my recommendation, too, I'm sure. Another item of note is that the salad pairs quite nicely with pizza mountain pies. Just sayin'...

...unique opportunities:

One evening we joined some Grace and Oasis church people to cut up rutabagas for the dicer machine at a food-drying facility called Reapers of Hope. 

We were so grateful to be able to go camping with our church family this year. From helping each other snip beans for meal prep to gathering around a huge campfire for a sing-n-share time, and lots of variety in between, we made some great memories!

Some of the little yesses of the past month have added up to larger yesses, including a 3-part trip, a huge goal accomplished, and a Kenites rendezvous. These bigger events merit an entire blog post and a photos focus of their own. Perhaps I will say yes to blogging about them here in the coming weeks. 

Note to email subscribers: This is the first blog post I have published since switching to a different blogger emailing service (or whatever you call it - I definitely am not as tech savvy as I'd like to be!) If things aren't coming through as well as they used to or as they should, please let me know. Thanks!

Soul Training in Nature

At the invitation of a sister-in-heart to join her book study this past winter, I encountered "The Good and Beautiful God", written by James Bryan Smith. There were many wonderful truths I discovered during our walk through the book, in which the author invites readers to become more intimate with "the God that Jesus knows". I was also greatly impacted by the soul training exercises found at the end of each chapter. 

When we finished the book study in March, I felt like I had only skimmed the surface of the soul training aspect of the book. I decided to focus more fully on the suggested exercises throughout the remainder of this year. At that time, there were nine months left in 2021 and nine chapters in the book, with one soul training exercise for each chapter. I could concentrate on one exercise per month, I thought. How handy is that! 

I also asked my co-book-studier to hold me accountable to my intention by checking in with me at the end of each month, finding out what I learned and what impressed me about that month's particular soul training exercise. My friend readily agreed to be my accountability partner. How dandy is that!

For the month of May, at the end of the chapter on the goodness of God, there were actually two soul training exercises: Silence and Awareness of Creation. These two disciplines, the author wrote, would "help us begin to experience the goodness of God" by "slowing down, becoming quiet, and learning to be present in the present moment" and by "paying attention to the beauty that surrounds us." 

I found that the Awareness of Creation aspect of the exercises could not have been more fitting for the month of May.

When May began to fade into June, I considered how I might answer my accountability friend's usual end-of-the-month question about Soul Training, I thought perhaps I could do it in writing. I decided I would share my impressions with her by listing some things I observed in nature during times of silence and becoming more aware of God's goodness in Creation. While I do that for her here, I guess you all get to listen in. 

I learned more of the goodness of God as I observed:

~ spring breezes setting aspen leaves to shimmering like so many cascading sequins in sunlight

~ a bird on the lawn contemplating a piece of last year's ornamental grass, trying it on for size in its beak, and finally flying off nestward, trailing the very long dried stalk behind itself like a banner

~ a great blue heron overhead, streamlined as a weapon complete with bayonet beak, making numerous journeys on its invisible flight track above our orchard

~ thick slabs of woodland fungi, big as dinner plates, shelved against a tree trunk

~ elegant, lacy-fronded fern chalices cupping dew and sunlight in their mysterious green depths

~ sprigs of delicate white baby's breath whispering I love you echoes in Mother's Day bouquet

~ a seemingly very new swallowtail butterfly, trapped and flapping in the orchard grasses until I gently released it to float daintily above the apple treetops

~ a swarm of bees forsaking their hive and going rogue in finding a new dwelling place, but protecting their old queen (keeping her cool and safe) the whole time

~ Red Delicious rows by the garden outdoing themselves in this spring's apple blossom production

~ a yellow bird, not a goldfinch but maybe a warbler, flit-flying just ahead of me and my bike, darting from the bushes on one side of the rail trail to the other

~ the springtime bouquets of garden flowers, such as lilacs and peonies, that fill the room with scent so heady it could bowl you over

~ slender, crisp and crimson stalks of rhubarb, at once drawing your mouth together with its tanginess and drawing you in with its deliciousness when coupled with sweetness of pastry or batter

~ a rich and slow rain falling steadily on the thirsty earth, so welcome one can hardly keep from going out and dancing in it 

~ trunk of a yellow birch tree, looking for all the world like it's had a bad hair day

~ diminutive green-suited clergyman named Jack, preaching for days on end from his striped umbrellaed pulpit

~ clouds as poetry in the sky - clumped and humped, bright and sprite, swept and crept, scattered and tattered, fluffy and scruffy, thick and quick - new lines of verse every day

~ an oriole outside a basement window, infatuated with its handsome orange and black self image in the glass

~ back at the cabin in the woods, a most cunning and spring-loaded gray squirrel that bypassed baffles (and other squirrel deterrents) and reached the silo birdfeeder containing peanuts by leaping up into the air 4 or 5 feet from a fallen log on the forest floor

~ crinkled variegation sprinkled pink and scarlet in ivy geranium hanging basket

"God, I worship you, and praise you for your goodness that you revealed to me during the month of May. During my times of Awareness of Creation, I saw your creativity, your provision, your beauty, your timeliness, your faithfulness, your power, your generosity, your kindness, and your extravagance. Truly you are a God of goodness."

Kissables in Spring

 

Recently I told some friends a few things they may not have known about me before. Included on that list was "when I see springtime treasures such as emerging pink-tipped apple blossoms, I get an urge to kiss them." 

I think such a whimsical response to the world coming alive again in the Spring is hereditary. While my father taught me to notice details, my mother showed me how to exclaim over them. 

My first mom, whom I now call Mom-Eva, would stand out in a gusty wind with her arms outstretched and upraised in joyous welcome. She would see bright morning sunshine and burst into song. She would burrow her nose deep into a full-blown peony and breathe "Oh, the whole world smells wonderful!". Like her, I want to gather all the gorgeous, vibrant, expanding things into my embrace and shout a hallelujah to their Maker. 

My Eva mom loved flowers. When I see the flowers of Spring, I think of her. In the springtime twenty-six years ago, she passed way from cancer.  Whenever May 3 rolls around again, I think of her. Today is the second Sunday in May. Every Mother's Day, of course, I think of her.

This year on Mother's Day, as I ponder kissables in Spring, I think of two little stories - one for each of my two moms. 

Mom-Eva was quite ill in the weeks before her death. Eventually she lost the strength even to walk outside and admire the things in nature that were coming alive. We daughters-turned-caregivers knew that her cancer was terminal, and we tried to keep her as comfortable as possible in her own home, while looking for ways to cheer her and ourselves in that bleak landscape of our lives. One day my sister brought Mom a bright little pansy plucked from her own garden. Mom lifted the flower to her lips and kissed its cheery face. 

My second mom, whom I call Mom-Ruthie, went from being mother of two to a mom of eight and grandma to a handful of littles just like that, the day she married my dad. I thought she transitioned into her mother and grandmother roles admirably. I remember a sweet little tradition she began with the grandchildren in which she would "taste their cheeks" to determine what they'd had for a meal. She'd pretend to give a little nibble on their kissable cheeks, and murmur, "Hmmm, tastes like...some kind of meat...you must have had chicken for dinner. Oh, and I taste some jello over here. Red applesauce jello, right?" She'd taste-kiss the child's other cheek and discover some ice cream dessert there, setting the youngster to giggling over the ways of their wise and wonderful Grandma Schrock.

I guess I learned from both of my mothers to embrace the sweet little things in life.

Happy Mother's Day to the moms I have currently - Mom Schrock and Mom Martin. And to anyone who is a mom or has a mom (or wishes they still did)!