He waits

"He has entered our history; he has shared our journey. He came to free us from darkness and to grant us light. In him was revealed the grace, the mercy, and the tender love of the Father: Jesus is Love incarnate." ~ Pope Francis

 

Through nights grown long we waited. 

With our hope and our longing carried by prayers that we whispered into the frosty air, 

we journeyed toward stars ancient and wise. 

Toward the promised glory. 

We waited for the light to come, to dispel the darkness, to set us free. 

To offer mercy and forgiveness.

And He did come. Love eternal came down to fill our souls grown weary, 

to take all our burdens as his own, to show us a way out.

The way.

A tiny babe born hungry, hoping we turn to glance, to see him there waiting.

Waiting with nothing - no armies, no material wealth, no crib adorned with jewels - just his arms outstretched, waiting. 

For us.

Our savior. Our king and our God. 

Still he comes.

Still he waits.

 

October camping on the James River: my survival story

Last Friday afternoon Jim and I embarked on a three hour drive south to the James River State Park for a two night camping trip. It was our first time camping in several years and the first trip without our kids. Our menu was planned, supplies purchased and our old camping gear - plus a brand new tent - was packed carefully in the back of our van. We were ready and excited! Having never been to the James River State Park, we weren't quite sure what to expect, but from the description on the Virginia State Park website it promised to be the perfect spot for turning life down a notch or two; an opportunity to truly relax and enjoy communing with nature. Jim even considered doing a little fishing.

Our campsite looking up toward the parking area from the bank of the river

I had reserved our spot a few months earlier based on our availability to get away and the availability of campsites at the park. For about 10 days prior to our weekend, I had been eying the weather forecast, wondering about how cold it was going to get at night. Based on the reports, there was no doubt that it was going to be cold. So we prepared for it by packing warm clothes, including extra socks, long johns, scarves, hats, gloves and winter jackets. We had very warm sleeping bags and an extra quilt. We stocked up on coffee, tea and hot cocoa. We would stay warm and toasty no matter what - no problem! Even Holly donned a new sweater and we packed her fleece doggy jacket. She had lots of blankets to snuggle up in, as dachshunds do not like to be cold.

Well. 

Man, oh man. Boy, oh boy. Did it get cold! Freezing, cold.

We arrived at the campground around 5:00 as the sun was going down over the James. A truly gorgeous sight. It was nice to have daylight to set up camp, but by the time we built a fire and sat around eating our soup supper it was dark and quite chilly. I switched my down vest for my winter jacket, and put on my hat and gloves. As we were sipping hot beverages later that evening and inching closer and closer to the fire, we decided to call it a night. 

Sunset over the James River

Here is what I ended up wearing to bed that night: two pairs of socks, long johns and fleece sweat pants, a long sleeved t-shirt, a pull-over sweat shirt, a wool scarf, gloves, a fleece hat, and my winter jacket. And I was still COLD. I was in my 30 lb sleeping bag (which happens to be way too warm in the summer, by the way) and I had a comforter on top of that. Holly, in her sweater, was snuggled up against my belly. I ended up putting one of those hand warmer packets that are designed to go inside your gloves or mittens inside my underwear. You may laugh, but it helped A LOT! I think it actually saved my life. Kuddos to whomever invented those little treasures. I figured out that the cold air was traveling down into my sleeping bag from the top, so I tried to close it up around me. What I need is a cocoon style bag - like my husband has. He claims he was warm enough except for his feet. And he attributes that to 'old age'.

I finally dozed off - only to be awakened a few times by the passing of a freight train on the railroad tracks situated across the river, then lulled back to sleep again by the baying of country dogs off in the distance. I prayed I didn't have to get up in the middle of the night to go potty. Thankfully, I did not. 

Around 7 a.m. a few of the campers in the neighboring site began stirring and woke me up. Then I really did have to go potty. The latrine was just up the road a piece - not really far - but not really close either. I slipped on my sneakers and unzipped the tent. The door of the tent crackled. Oh.my.gosh. A fairyland of frost and ice greeted me. Everything was frozen. The water in Holly's dog dish, our dish washing soap, our hand soap. Everything. 

I dragged Holly up to the latrine with me. She took care of her business on our way up and back. As soon as we arrived back at our tent, she made a b-line for Jim's sleeping bag to hunker down and snuggle up. Smart dog. She didn't emerge until she smelled the Canadian bacon and eggs cooking and the sun had inched a little higher in the sky. 

Holly goes back to bed

 

Saturday morning fire

There are small rapids up river producing little puffs of foam that float along the current. On Saturday morning the foam was frozen.

An early morning mist

The view from the campsite was gorgeous

After breakfast we hiked a few of the beautiful trails that meander through the park. Our five mile trek warmed us up nicely, but somewhere along the way, I convinced Jim that we should break camp and head back home that afternoon. 

Sun streaming down on the frost-covered trail

Canadian geese enjoying the chilly waters of the James

A beaver habitat along the trail

Jim and Holly taking in the view

Gorgeous. The James River State Park is beautiful.

 

By the time we got back to our site, the wind had picked up significantly and although the sun was higher in the sky and invitingly warm, the windchill made it seem much colder. After lunch we packed it all up and headed for home. I guess I wimped out. I just couldn't stand the thought of another night of trying to keep from freezing to death. Kind of takes the fun out of it, you know?

Before exiting, Jim and I explored other areas of the park. It really is a lovely place. There are campgrounds for folks with horses, RV's, and another primitive tent site tucked way back in the woods (where I would definitely consider camping for purposes of more privacy and for the distance away from the train tracks). There is a loop of very nice looking cabins perched on high ground. The westerly facing cabins have a gorgeous view across the mountains. In the summer months, the park purportedly is a great place for tubing on the river and for canoeing and kayaking at any time.

I would definitely go back. Perhaps in May or June. Although a cabin in the fall or winter would suit me just fine!

He was there

Last Sunday, Jim and I rose before sunrise; we showered, shaved and dressed. After taking care of a few last minute chores and packing, we grabbed our coffee to go and hit the road. It was a beautiful autumn morning and we chose to drive a little out of our way to avoid a reported detour along I-95 (that we learned later turned out to be misinformation). Our more westerly route through the country turned out to be very pleasant with no traffic hassles. It dumped us onto I-95 in Fredericksburg. From there we sped south heading for North Carolina. It's a familiar road as we've traveled it well over the years and one that normally causes us much angst, particularly during the summer months when traffic back-ups are an all too common occurrence. Sunday mornings in mid-October are a different story (at least the further away you are from northern Virginia!) and it was smooth sailing for us this time. Somewhere near the state line, I had begun to grow weary, apparently my caffeine fix had worn off. I pulled off the highway and into a gas station where we switched drivers.

Back on the road, the highway was soon flanked on either side by stately rows of tall pines like sentries guarding our way. Peeking through and beyond the trees, I spied miles of snow-white fields of cotton, most certainly ready for harvesting. Little Blue (our Honda Fit) carried us across bridges spanning brackish swamps and rivers named Neuse and Tar. I knew then that we were closer to our destination and before long we were exiting the interstate, driving through the quaint, small southern town of Benson making our way west passed farmland and country homes toward Buies Creek.

Shortly before one o'clock we arrived at Campbell University where Erin is enrolled in the School of Osteopathic Medicine. Students and family members were already entering the convocation center to await the start of the class of 2017's White Coat ceremony, scheduled to begin at two o'clock.

Having never experienced a White Coat ceremony, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. It turned out to be a beautiful, moving experience. The presentations and the keynote address were interesting and truly inspiring, but the ceremony itself was the most poignant. The student doctors lined up with their advisers, waiting for their names to be called. As his name was called, the student walked across the stage, handed his coat to his adviser and he/she and the dean of the medical school "coated" him. If a student happened to have a relative or mentor who was a physician he or she was invited to "coat" the student doctor. After some time, it occurred to me that if Jim's dad had still been alive he could possibly have been there to "coat" Erin. 

Grandpa Fred was a pediatrician and a great inspiration to Erin. He was the kind of doctor one rarely meets these days; the kind of doctor Erin hopes to be one day. He devoted generous chunks of time to his patients and really got to know them and their families. He did not define his patients by their various ailments or illnesses; he recognized each patient's inherent dignity and treated them with compassion and love. He was gentle and fun.

Sitting there in Campbell University's convocation center Sunday afternoon, I thought about how proud Grandpa would have been of Erin, and my missing him at that moment caused tears to pool and my chin to quiver a bit. When I was able, I leaned over and whispered my thoughts to Jim. He smiled, shook his head in agreement and his eyes, too, brimmed with tears. It was a raw, beautiful moment. 

It was a truly joyful moment as well; we couldn't be more proud of Erin. We knew, too, that Grandpa was there. I could feel him there. I could see him, smiling broadly (he had the best smile), "coating" Erin and drawing her to him with those marvelous hands of his; those hands that had healed so many and so often offered comfort and an invitation to trust.

Yep. He was there.

Misty Morning :: Daybook

Outside my window ::

Low flying geese lift an early morning mist as they pass overhead, giving way to blue skies and delightful sunshine by midday. A lovely breeze sends the fallen leaves tumbling across the yard. The accompanying chill, though slight, warns of coming November gales. Soon and welcome.

I am wearing ::

Black yoga pants (although I do not do yoga), a kelly-green t-shirt, gray zip-up sweatshirt and my old Nike sneakers.

On Pandora ::

George Winston Radio

Around the house ::

Work on our basement resumes. J installed a very nice looking french door to replace the slider. 

I'm not sure I can live with the wall color. It definitely did not turn out as I had hoped. It hums violet or mauve under the influence of the basement lighting. Hmm.

From the kitchen and garden ::

I've been making lots of soup lately. We're still harvesting tomatoes, so I made Ina Garten's cream of tomato soup. Very yummy! The recipe is on the Food Network website. I also recently made an acorn squash soup that was to die for and a beef, Italian sausage vegetable soup that was also very good. I have my eye on a beautiful butternut squash currently taking up residence in a large, wooden salad bowl on the kitchen counter.

J made pickles on Labor Day weekend, as he does every late summer. This year, however, he had to buy a bushel of cukes from a lady at the local farmer's market as tragedy struck our garden mid-summer. His poor cucumber plants fizzled out. Over-watering is our guess.

Resting by the front door are two very large pumpkins plucked from our vegetable garden a few weeks ago. A smaller one, that grew up between the bushes in front of our porch, went home with two happy tykes - Isaac and Margaret - late last week.

I am hearing ::

Holly tittering about. Little doggie nails, click-clacking along the wood floor. I suppose she wants to eat as I have yet to feed her.

I am reading ::

 I just started a book by Joel Salatin - Holy Cows and Hog Heaven: The Food Buyer's Guide to Farm Friendly Food

I've only read the Foreward (by Michael Pollan), the Introduction and Chapter One.

I will share my thoughts as I go along. For now here's only one of the many striking thoughts from Pollan's Foreward:

"Why should local - rather than, say, organic - be the linchpin to this revolution? Because a farmer dependent on a local market is far more likely to raise a variety of crops, rather than specialize in the one or two plants or animals that the national market demands. That system wants all its apples from Washington State, all its lettuce from California (and make that Iceberg, please) and its corn from Iowa. Well it turns out the people who live in Iowa can only eat so much corn and soybeans; if Iowans were eating locally, rather than from the supermarket, their farmers would soon learn how to grow a few other things besides. And as soon as they gave up on their monocultures of corn and soy, they would quickly discover they could also give up on their pesticides and chemical fertilizers, because a diversified farm will produce its own fertility and its own pest control.

Almost all of the problems of our industrial food system flow from the original sin of monoculture. Monoculture may be a powerful industrial idea - it produces economies of scale and all sorts of other efficiencies - but it runs diametrically counter to the way nature works, which nothing in this world can do indefinitely. Insect resistance, agricultural pollution, food-borne illness, and antibiotic resistance are what happens when the logic of monoculture runs up against the logic of nature. Monoculture can't survive this encounter without one industrial Band-Aid after another - beginning with chemicals and ending (well, one can hope) with genetically modified crops and irradiation. The answer to the problems of monoculture is polyculture, and, to get back to where we started, the way to support polyculture is by buying food from local farms that practice it."

I am hoping and praying ::

For safety, spiritual and physical, for Megan as she travels far and wide beginning tomorrow.

I am pondering ::

When big government fails (as is currently the case) and (extra)ordinary citizens and state and local jurisdictions jump in to right the wrongs, it gives me a glimmer of hope and restores my faith in humanity. Neighbor helping neighbor, as Christ teaches - that's what will save this country not piling on more and more federally funded and sponsored entitlements.

I am grateful ::

For God's love and mercy.

A few plans ::

J and I are driving down Sunday to witness Erin's and her fellow medical students' white coat ceremony at Campbell University. So very proud of Erin and we're looking forward to being a part of the festivities.

saturday morning

It seems all at once,

the Saturday morning that bustled full

with ferrying kids here then there

has quieted,

yielding to a measure of time more generous than before

granting careful inspection of sinewy oak branches,

casting long, hoary shadows

like beggar's hands outstretched.

And when there is little work, 

allowing dreams to linger late 

as geese cut silently through 

an early autumn mist.

And riverside rambling, hand-in-hand, at noon.

Turning to Our Lady

Yeah, I know, that little poem was depressing and I, too, thought by now that I'd be used to the kids growing up and leaving. And that the undivided attention that Jim and I are now able to shower upon one another would certainly make up for it (and it really does help as do the grandchildren), but then dropping Megan off for her senior year of college hit. me. hard. It's not that I'm constantly brooding in a corner or anything, but whenever I think of it, that dadgum, blasted, and all too familiar little lump in my throat starts to rise and my eyes go all swimmy and, well, you know.


Having just left Megan on Monday, I could not help but remember all four of my kids as little ones. In a weird way, I could hear their squeals and laughter echoing ghost-like through the house. I'd see Katie twirling in the family room, Erin and Kevin frolicking through mud puddles, and little Megan cooing to her baby dolls.

My gosh, it was just yesterday, right?

Sometimes, I just really miss it all.

While I was raising my kids, I'd often worry about loving them too much, as if there is such a thing. But I knew early on that when the time came to release them to the world it would be very, very hard. I realized, too, that they really weren't mine to cling to so tightly. It doesn't (and yet it does) help that the internet and Facebook have been abuzz this week with posts and status updates from parents, from all walks of life, reeling from the sting of separation - from those sending child number one off to college to those bidding farewell to their youngest for the first time or for yet another year away.

This particular article about mourning their mere absence from the home and about the difficulty of letting go reminded me of my time with Our Lord in the Adoration Chapel this week. Although the author of the article doesn't mention her, I reflected this week on Our Lady's time spent raising Jesus from infancy through adulthood and how all along she knew she could not cling to him. How she knew she had been blessed and humbled to be chosen to be His mother, how it graced her and made her love Him all the more. She pondered everything in her heart and she trusted. Her deep faith carried her through knowing He was destined to suffer and die for all mankind. And perhaps she realized, too, how she would be the perfect role model for all mothers. To teach us how to give back to God those entrusted to our care, those babies all grown up who rightly belong to Him. To teach us to be humbled by and grateful for the sheer privilege and gift of mothering. And we learn through her profound suffering in the sharing of her Son's passion and death, that the hurting is okay, too. It is truly good, as it springs forth from a deep, abiding love, a necessary love. A love that informs you that you've done your best and shows you that they have grown into quite outstanding, beautiful adults with their own God-given gifts and opportunities.

Therein lies our joy. We wipe away the tears as we look forward to the days ahead ... of celebrations, graduations, weddings, births, new careers and of simply relishing each moment.

O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary, our hope, pray for us.

****************************************************

Please remember to pray for those parents who have lost children through illness, violence, tragedy, addiction, estrangement or misunderstanding. I cannot imagine their sense of loss. Please, Jesus, hold them close.

the missing wells up

The missing wells up all at once, like a river spilling beyond its banks,

swollen by much too much rain.

It just seems so cruel. It surprises her at just how much.

From loving them hard with all she's got,

to them suddenly no longer needing her.

So she settled on a dog. A sweet one. A little one that will not grow big.

You're still their mother. Her love insists as his arms catch her just before she slips away.

True.

But not the same.

She nearly called out to them to come marvel at the turtle she spied under the boxwood. 

To share the joy of discovery. 

To share the beauty of God's created world.

Like they used to.

Instead she pointed it out to the empty-nest dog. 

But the dog showed no interest, preferring instead to yap at the mailman.

Late July Afternoon - Daybook Revisted

Outside my window ::

Summer is in full swing, although we've been blessed with somewhat of a reprieve from the above 90 degree temperatures of last week. It's a soothing 63 degrees right now - a little overcast, but the sky is clearing and the cicadas are in top form. I love summer.

I am wearing ::

Denim capris and a t-shirt from Sunset Beach, NC. 

I'm listening to and watching ::

Coverage of the 28th World Youth Day with Pope Francis on EWTN. At the moment, our Holy Father is walking through the slums of Rio de Janeiro. I watched him hug a boy of about 10 years of age. The boy was in tears - overcome with the emotion of embracing Papa Francisco! I am in tears, too!

Around the house ::

 I've been busy rearranging rooms and figuring out where best to store 'things' and where to hang pictures. The living room has been repainted and is the new home to my white, slip-covered Ikea sofa and loveseat. I found a cute, little slipper chair on Target's website for a great clearance price and a new navy blue slipcover for my ratty, old green velvet wing chair. A couple of fun new pillows and cute lamps from Home Goods have also brightened up the room. I'm still thinking about curtains. I ordered drapes from World Market, but decided they are better suited for another room. After everything is put together, I'll post some photos. So stay tuned!

Since I decided to move the white couches to the living room, I needed to find new furniture for the family room. Jim and I shopped at a local furniture store over Memorial Day weekend and were very pleased to find a comfy, rather smart looking sofa and loveseat ensemble in a dark, espresso leather. They are so easy to take care of and very kid friendly! The Ikea slip-covered chair continues to hold its original spot in the family room, but I purchased a new cover for it and the footstool from Knesting.com. It is a beautiful taupe and pairs quite well with the new couches. A new area rug - on sale from Kohl's {I hardly ever - almost never - buy anything full price} finishes off the room nicely.

In the garden ::

The vegetable garden is exploding with tomatoes, but everything else seems to have petered out. For some reason - too much water we think - the cucumbers are dying off and the yellow squash stopped producing. Farmer Jim planted a new cucumber plant yesterday afternoon - so we'll see. He makes the most wonderful, delicious pickles every summer, so we're maintaining hope! The lettuce was plentiful and yummy and we were able to harvest a small batch of green beans. We have a monster pumpkin growing and a couple of smaller ones. Isaac is excited about that! Grandpa Jim (the farmer) refers to the big one as Isaac's pumpkin. We also have two pumpkin vines growing in the front flower bed. So we'll see what we end up with by Halloween. 

From the kitchen ::

Earlier in the year, Jim and I decided we needed to lose a few pounds. We had started eating a much healthier diet, cutting out virtually any processed foods and eating mostly whole foods, but needed to do something more. Basically, we eat very few sweets - hardly any at all really - and I eat bread very rarely {Jim still makes sandwiches for lunch} and no white potatoes or pasta unless we're guests at someone's house for dinner. I lost over 10 pounds and feel great. We frequent a nearby farmer's market and try to buy/eat local, organic, grass fed, cage-free, non-GMO and so on (you get the picture). Perhaps one of the drawbacks is that I've become somewhat of a food snob as a result, but I really do try not to 'judge' others especially when we've been invited to their home for a meal. It's decidely more important to find joy in friendship and "breaking bread" together and to always be grateful for those gifts.

 I am reading ::

Just finished The Discernment of Spirits: An Ignatian Guide to Everyday Living by Fr. Timothy M. Gallagher. Challenging, yet helpful in discerning the various spiritual movements we experience toward consolation and desolation.

I am hoping and praying ::

That two friends who have been unemployed are able to find suitable jobs very, very SOON! It's been a difficult cross to bear for them and their families.

I am pondering ::

There are some who will argue that the Church has no business imposing her beliefs on others, but I argue that those folks misunderstand the Church's mission! There is only one Truth - not many truths. And that TRUTH benefits all of society whether you are Catholic or not or whether or not you're a believer.

"The Church must be taken into the streets!" - Pope Francis, World Youth Day address at Saint Sebastian Cathedral, Rio de Janeiro, 7/25/13

I am grateful ::

For my kids, my husband, my grandchildren. Especially my Erin who is preparing to move to NC this weekend to attend medical school at Campbell University School of Osteopathic Medicine [CUSOM]. Jim will follow her down I-95 with our van and a rented trailer full of her belongings. I am super excited for her! But my mother's heart aches at the separation. I will miss her so, so much.

A few plans ::

My dear mother is riding back with me for a two week visit after I fetch Megan from Belmont Abbey College at the completion of her summer job working in the diocese of Charlotte. I am looking forward to having Mom (and Megan) here with us for a few weeks! It's been too long since she's been here.

A picture thought ::

Erin and me at a recent concert

The Littlest Suffering Souls: A Series by Austin Ruse at The Catholic Thing

Over at The Catholic Thing, Austin Ruse provides a lesson about the love and mercy of God, and the mystery of suffering through this set of articles about three children who walked joyfully with Our Lord through incredible trials, deeply impacting the lives of those who knew them or met them along the way.

There are saints among us, only we don't always hear about them. Click on the links below and meet three who have made our world a better place: 
 
The Littlest Suffering Souls: Audrey Stevenson of Paris

The Littlest Suffering Souls, part 2: Margaret Leo of McLean

The Littlest Suffering Souls III: Bendan Kelly of Great Falls

Lesson from the Littlest Suffering Souls

Megan Singing :: just wish the ending wasn't cut off!

{Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real} -- Hatteras Island version

~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life ~

{Pretty}

Almost every June we spend a week gathering beach gear of all kinds, household items and whatever else we think we may need for our family vacation on Hatteras Island. My husband, the engineer, stages all the equipment and paraphernalia in our dining room and then the day before we are scheduled to leave, he very meticulously packs our huge van, knowing exactly how things fit best. (I gave up packing early in our marriage after he once undid everything I had done and repacked the car. His way was so much better and more efficient! So from then on, he took care of all the packing of the car or van and he prefers it that way. And so do I.)

This year we rented an oceanfront house in Rodanthe, NC with easy access to the beach. The views from our deck were stunning:

{Happy}

 

 

 

Isaac had the best time!

And so did Margaret.

All tuckered out!

{Funny} 

Holly spies a CRAB!

Holly was quite intrigued by the crab and ended up chasing it all over the area where we were sitting. It scuttled away sideways, at one point finding shelter underneath a sand chair where our son-in-law's mom was seated! Holly eventually chased the poor creature down to the surf where it happily made its escape.

{Real}

A contemplative by nature, a week at the shore revives my soul. Like many people, I am content to sit for hours just watching pelicans skim the waves and listening to the laughing gulls. It's not necessary to make conversation, but it is important to look and listen.

My poor Jim is really an active soul who can only sit for so long before becoming restless. A Michigan native, he longs for vacations on a lake where he can swim, canoe, kayak, fish or nap under the shade of a tree. He is so good to me - agreeing every summer to an ocean beach vacation because he knows how much I love it; how much it is in my blood, having spent my early life on Long Island, NY where the beach was just a hop, skip and a jump away.

I think maybe next summer I will insist on a lake vacation. Jim would like that.
And, yeah, so would I.

Jim and our friend, Peggy, scoping out the beach upon our arrival

Fr. "Uncle Jimmy" relaxing under the canopy.

My great-niece Marley

Margaret giving Holly kisses.

Sam & Katie and family.

The view of Pamlico Sound. 

Sunset over the sound as seen from the deck of our cottage.

Nothing like a Margarita at lunch time!

Isaac building a sand fort with his Daddy and Auntie Erin.

This is how one dresses for the beach after forgetting to apply sunscreen on feet and ankles the day before.

Our beach canopy.

{p,h,f,r}

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