“I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls off a string.”
– Anne of Avonlea
Category Archives: The Ranch Hands
Sunlight through Shadows
Friday morning found me a little groggy and road weary. Allen was traveling and I had been glued to my mail and phone for 48 hrs so as not to miss an update. Grandpa, the only father I've known, entered hospice care and died soon after.
There would be no more news on funeral planning for several hours due to the time difference between here and there. I briefly considered crawling back into bed but the sun was beckoning and little people were getting cabin fever. Some days you just know you will be more rested when you wear them out. So we packed up the blanket, packed water bottles and sunscreen, and met our friends at the Seewoog.
Maria is one of those friends I don't see often but, when we do, words spill out easily. The time passed is quickly bridged and there is great comfort found sharing with another soldier's mom.
( I suggested sunscreen…)
(the men in this family take ball sports seriously!)
The boys ran themselves ragged playing ball in the open fields. The ant mound drew them not surprisingly, and plans were made to begin an ant farm. (and just as quickly laid aside ; )) The little girls, too, fell right back into step. With clasped hands they roamed the reed strewn banks with their brothers, bringing us lily fronds and fish eggs, daisies and dandelion. We left filled to the brim. Just what the day called for.
the mark of time
They stayed there on her mirror for weeks after we left. She couldn't bear to wipe away the imprint of my little ones. Seeing those tiny hands as she passed by made it feel as though they weren't so far away. There were no other little ones nearby and the glass stayed spotlessly clean. There were no messes. And no giggles. This is what Gram told me after we visited all those years ago when bearded sons were still toddling boys.
I thought of this glancing over my shoulder as the sun fell the other night, remembering one sticky, tiny person pressed to the glass earlier, looking for her brothers in the yard.
I left it there for just a little bit longer.
new every morning
It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23
One of the biggest surprises I have had in the past several months has been a growing fascination with the Old Testament. I will admit it did not draw me in regularly for many years. It was Allen's audio bible study app that started it all. He is a man of schedules and goal setting and the whole idea of this reading all planned out appealed to him especially. He listens to his chapters on his own and then reads to us after the rosary. More often than not I am so caught up in what we hear I grab my bible after to read the sections before and after.
It's been a blessing.
Every morning.
Bread of Heaven
This is the sixth time we have buttoned up a little man for his First Communion Day. This year was Brendan's year and he has so looked forward to this day.
He was so sincere throughout the mass. Father gave a special homily in English for Brendan, who was so rapt with attention he was nodding yes throughout the whole thing. Father doesn't do an English sermon very often. He took it from The Sermons of St. John Vianney. (which is now in my Amazon shopping cart!) I know this because he showed me his copy of the book afterwards with all the notes and Brendan's name penciled in here and there. Our boy is forever to be remembered when he thumbs through his volume and I can't tell you how that endeared me to the man.
We took no pictures during the service. As a priest once said, "It is a holy moment, not a Kodak moment." But we made up for that after. <g> We giggle when we look at the pictures now because dear Mr. Sherner (r) looks so stern. But don't let that fool you. It is like those old tintype pictures. As soon as the camera fired he was all smiles! In fact he swapped places with me and set up and took pictures of us. Another of those cultural things we are just now understanding.
The other parishioners were every bit as kind. When all the pictures were done and we stepped outside there they all were. All of them, waiting, with gifts and hearty handshakes for Brendan.
Have I mentioned how much B enjoys journaling? He just thinks it is so cool to write down whatever he is thinking about or telling what he has done. He often just sits and doodles. I found this page below and had to smile. Salvation history from a 7 year old's point of view. So him. Don't worry. We've assured him all is well now. "I know," he said, quite satisfied with the whole explanation.
He still likes to make pictures and write about them. I wonder where he gets that from….
Sweet and Sour
"Mom, can I have a lemon? Can I make lemonade with it?"
"I guess so. Try not to make a big mess 'k?"
"'k"
"Know what, B? I know a story about another boy who doesn't get all puckered up over lemons…"
Impromptu story stretchers. My favorite sort.
bits of spring
Smile because it happened
There she was, that nanny goat, as we turned into the marketplace full of Easter revelry. She arched her blonde neck to nibble the last bits of grain from one wrinkled hand. Moira and I tried to coax the little girls in close to feel that soft nose, to see the sleepy burro in the straw. Oh, they stepped in a bit. Tentatively.
They don't remember.
Their world is so new that their memories don't reach back beyond these cobblestones. Tess talks of loving to ride the horse, but it is not our horses she speaks of. It is the pony ride tent she recalls. For a minute my knees are weak.
It wasn't so long ago. I sat on an upturned bucket and ran my hand along the side of doe like this one, coaxing milk from a warm udder and knowing exactly how long I had to work before the feed was eaten and she'd stomp impatient. If I close my eyes I can feel the metal handle of the water bucket, hear the bleating of goat kids in the stall nearby.
It wasn't so long ago. And it was good.
Things are different today. We stand here with these girls peeking between old boards. Another farmer will gather this flock in tonight. My husband and I will gather our own little flock into a yellow house at the edge of a village some 5,000 miles from a barn in Colorado. While they sleep we pore over pictures of houses in yet another country, wondering which we will find ourselves in this summer.
This too is good.
Perhaps the most important lesson I have learned these past two yrs is that happiness is not wedded to a place nor a circumstance. It is not frozen in time. It is fluid and changing and can pour out of its old containers to fill up entirely new spaces. Even to overflowing. I think I didn't know this for sure until I left.
I leave here with something I didn't have when I came. Faith. Faith that happy isn't just a fluke. It can happen again. And again. Just like challenges. I don't know where we are going exactly but I feel sure there is good there and we will find it.
Still, I hope that just maybe, there will be another day when I turn a corner a England and see a nanny goat.
Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened. - Dr. Suess
Holy Saturday
sweet
random sweet things…
Starry Sky Journal 