celebration of lines

Pat and I recently celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary. We have a tradition most years of spending the weekend in Red River Gorge in Kentucky. We love it there. I am a huge fan of tradition, so going to the same place to do the same thing each year is pretty meaningful to me. Seeing the same incredible rock formations, walking the same paths. (Okay. We tried a new one this year, but we're going to go back to the old rough trail again next time.) This year, I noticed that the enormous fallen tree that had been uprooted my first time there now looks fairly unimpressive. Some things change, I guess.

At one point, I turned the camera around and snapped a picture of myself. Glancing at the picture, I realized my face is to be counted among the "things that change." I hadn't really noticed it. Some of you will say you still don't, but it's happening. I have some places eager to wrinkle here. A couple places have made a habit of it. Part of me wants to panic; part of me wants to just say that the corners of my eyes and my forehead are just settling into the shape that suits them. It's just that I looked pretty much exactly the same for ten years and, well, now I don't.

You may have seen a video circulating that compares the marks children leave on women's bodies to various beautiful marks in nature. Maybe it's because I had seen the video. Maybe it's because I've always enjoyed noticing the lines growing and eroding in the Gorge. Maybe it's because I like taking too many pictures. But I spent a bit noticing the lines of time and change around me that weekend while realizing in a new way how time, growth, impact, friction, and movement leave their marks. Rising up and eroding away, growing and decaying, stretching and shrinking back can have a way of beautifully occupying the same space. Too bad it's a struggle to appreciate the beauty of time on a face (especially our own) in the same way we appreciate the way these forces impact the rest of the natural world. Of course we grow in wisdom and beauty on the inside, but I'm going to choose to believe what happens concurrently on the outside serves only to emphasize the goodness of that inward progression.

Here are my observations on lines of growth and change in Red River Gorge. Lines marking growth, lines of imperfection and idiosyncrasy, lines from holding on, lines from letting go, lines of protection, lines of newness, lines from fading away, lines that help you see, lines marking great feats, outlines of tear-drops, lines of companionship, lines of separation, lines from miles traveled, lines going deep. 

 

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P.S. For another of my gleanings from this time in nature, head over to my other blog: godsmountainpeople

link liking

This isn't any great writing post (if any of them ever are...). I'm just coming to update a bit about Lia. She is still doing well. She is still eating. (If you somehow missed my post about that initial news, scroll down.) I realize I have picked up a number of readers because I provide exclusive access to Lia online. It's not quite as much like being one of those access shows on TV as you may think, though, so I thought I would give up the title. :)

Actually, there are a lot of people in this battle with us. A whole team of friends (some I'm just meeting, virtually,) is working together to help Lia's family. As I said, some of us are giving our time, some of us are giving our money. I like writing, so I write. But, as it turns out, I'm not the only friend who is offering up some reading material. So I want to quickly connect you to a couple other places online where you can hear from other friends of the family and not just have to take my word for it. (But you know you can take my word on it if you want.)

This first one is from another of my friends from my college days who had very much the same feeling about Rhys as I did upon first meeting her. I enjoyed reading about/reliving momentarily our common experiences here.
http://jennainrio.blogspot.com.br/2012/10/the-twitch-in-your-heart.html

The second is from someone whose name I know of, but who I actually don't know. But I really loved reading his writing. I think you will, too. This one is longer, but worth it.
http://tyounglightsys.dyndns.org/wordpress/?p=182

The other place I want to send you is to the donation site. This whole thing is ridiculously expensive. And, though Rhys has found some employment during this ordeal, they lost Dave's job and the place they had been living at the same time they lost each other. It's like someone (we'll call her "This life") said, "You're going to lose the ability to live as a family. If you want it back, you're going to have to fork over a lot of money to fight for it. But I'm going to take your source of income and you can't live at home anymore, either. Best of luck to ya!" Unfair. But you've already heard my thoughts on this, so I won't ramble on about them here.

Suffice it to say that, between these updates, expenses for this battle keep mounting. More people are being brought in -- specialists and such -- and it costs money to be able to use their time, too, in addition to money already owed the lawyers. It's expensive...and necessary. So please, if you have the means or know someone with the means to help financially, be encouraged. Of course, if you are a person who prays, be encouraged as well. I don't think you can ever say you have "enough" people praying, though lots of us are. But we know we don't have "enough" money yet. So if you feel at all inclined, even just a little, we'd be grateful if you'd help a friend of a friend. Thanks!

Oct. 11 update:
Today...TODAY is a mediation hearing, where a third party works with both parties to see if an agreement can be reached before a formal hearing ensues. Pursuant to requests for as much information as possible, I am also including, with their permission, a facebook note by Mimi Barker, who is a missionary and friend of this family. The date of this letter was Sept. 23. I think I have covered the details this contains, but perhaps this puts them in an easier-to-understand-at-once format. Hope this helps!

In December 2008, D and R were awaiting the arrival of their second child. The baby came early and Lia was born fighting for her life. She was in the emergency room within hours of her birth and then weeks in NICU. When she was still too fragile to tolerate touch or noise, she was already showing enough spunk to kick blankets away from her feet. She made huge progress but was still the sickest little baby in the NICU for a long time. Her mom, R, got to hold her again for the first time on Christmas Day. Her family finally got to take her home after two months and find out what it was like to be a family of four who didn't live in a hospital.

Now Lia is 3 ½ and a delightful child with a sparkling personality and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.  Earlier this year, a new treatment was started in the ongoing quest to treat the unnamed disease that she continues to battle. The new treatment began to do its work and Lia gradually began to improve. Now she is walking and eating and getting into mischief. Is Lia cured? No. She is stronger and healthier than she has been in a long time, and the gradual success of this treatment gives hope that someday her disease will be named and eventually vanquished. But Lia will still fight it for some time to come. She will probably have more visits to the hospital. She will continue to puzzle and charm more doctors who have dubbed her “our very medically complex child.” There may be times when she loses ground, or more panicked runs to the ER when something fails that should work. But now there is hope that she will grow up to keep on fighting. Hope that someday she will see the ocean where her beloved whales and dolphins live. There is hope, but that doesn't make it easier to explain to a 3 year old why she can't be with her mama.

You see, in the midst of all this hope, there is despair, and fear that the family might lose Lia after all. A new nightmare has started just when R and D can finally begin thinking of Lia as a forever child, and start dreaming of a future with her in it. Lia was home again, beginning to respond to the new medicines when a piece of the equipment she had to help her body function slipped out of place. She wasn't desperately ill, just needed to have something put back in place. The local hospital knows Lia well, and decided it would be best to send her across the state to another hospital with specialists who had also treated Lia before. While there, some called into question the source of Lia's recent progress, which led to R and D being caught up in a major custody battle for their daughter. They have engaged two terrific attorneys, and are preparing to fight with all they have for their family.

Big brother Z, at seven, is struggling with the situation as well. He adores his sister and wants nothing more than for all of the family to be home together. He recently saw the movie “The Avengers”, his first big kid movie. He loved it but after it was over, he asked about the guy who died. About how he gave everything. His mom ended up explaining that when you believe to your very heart that something is just, true, right, you fight with all you have.

He said, “We need super heroes.”

His mom said, “Daddy and I are fighting like the Avengers for our family. and the super heroes are coming.” Pray for these two little ones in the midst of this storm.

While they wait for the super heroes to arrive, the parents are continuing to fight the battle that has landed in their laps. There have been a couple of preliminary custody hearings already. The first one resulted in R's parental rights being restricted to limited supervised visits with Lia. Fortunately, D's parental rights were protected, and he has full custody of Lia. The next significant date on the calendar was September 11, when a mediation session was scheduled. That has been postponed. [As it has turned out, that hearing is TODAY. PLEASE PRAY!] It is possible that an agreement could be reached then which would allow D and R to return to Idaho with both their kids, and the nightmare would be over. However, based on their experience with the system so far, this does not look likely.

What is more likely is that the other side will continue to fight the family for custody of Lia, and the situation will move toward a trial, months down the road from now. Please be praying for the parents and their lawyers. No one has been charged or accused of anything. There are broad and nebulous allegations, but they have not been formalized, and have not been backed up with any evidence. R has not had an opportunity yet to defend herself. Note the legal distinction between an unfounded allegation and an accusation. Sadly, even an unfounded allegation is enough in today's world for the officials to intervene and try to remove a child from the custody of a parent. Once this switch gets flipped, there is no other way out except to follow the established procedures in the legal system. This takes months and is very expensive regardless of guilt or innocence. Many friends have a lot of questions and concerns, but some information must stay confidential due to the legal proceedings. Please understand that not getting an answer to your question is NOT an indication of lack of trust in you personally. The family has been advised to be very careful in sharing any details during this time.

The situation has created a huge financial need. The bill for legal expenses is $17,000 already and climbs at about $2000 -2500 per week. Over $16,000 has been raised toward that amount, most of which has already been paid to the attorneys. If the case moves towards a trial, an additional sum of $25,000 will be needed to prepare a defense. This could mount to $75,000 before this is all over. The family are grateful for their competent lawyers, but have already exhausted their own financial resources.

A new fundraising goal has been set: to raise $20,000 in the next two weeks, that is by October 8, 2012. The team supporting the family is now looking at getting some experts on board to be prepared to testify on the medical facts behind Lia's condition. The best experts cost money. Lia is worth it! This additional $20,000 will cover the cost of their retainers, and allow the lawyers to start working with them directly.

A lot of volunteer hours have been given in addition to the billable hours, so the bill is lower than it might otherwise be. There is a fund set up to help with the legal expense. All of the funds raised so far are going to the lawyers and nothing else.
Here is the link to that fund. This is a donation page run by Lia's Nana. https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=XKDXE488PNJB6

The legal bill is the biggest financial hurdle, but the family is stuck in Seattle until this is resolved. D is not working because he had to leave his job in Idaho to go to Seattle, and he is now Lia's full time primary care giver. There is no question of looking for other employment until this is over. R has found work she can do online, but she also needs to invest her time and energy into fighting for custody of Lia.

There are other needs, and opportunities to bless this family, and more will arise, but these are the immediate and urgent ones.

miracle monarch

One day, about three weeks ago, I was pulling all the tangled vines out from among the flowers I'm trying to grow in my yard. In one fist-full of vine, I found a little black and yellow caterpillar. I found a second one just a few feet away. Since I had destroyed their home, I brought the caterpillars with some of the leaves they were on to look at them and see if I could figure out how to raise them. When Pat saw them, he said, "Monarch caterpillars!" That was the first thing to know. But since then, I have learned a great deal about these tiny creations that astounds me. I'm sharing with you my list of...

AMAZING THINGS ABOUT MONARCHS
1.) They start out as eggs that can only be laid on milkweed. (Good thing I had let the weeds in my garden go for a little while!)
2.) When the caterpillars hatch out of the eggs, they eat the milkweed, which is what makes them poisonous. (And I thought milkweed only killed out my vegetable plants!)
3.) The caterpillars grow to be pretty big. They have yellow and black stripes and antennae-things coming out both ends.
4.) When you see them hanging upside-down, they're just about to make their chrysalis. They hang and hang and hang and then, suddenly, in the span of half an hour (I know because I missed it happening...) they're encapsuled! Just like that! 
5.) This chrysalis looks a good deal smaller than the caterpillar that went into it. I was perplexed about this and then I saw body parts in the bottom of the container. Turns out, the head or the tail (can't tell which) falls off when they go into hiding. Crazy! It all looked so necessary half an hour before!
6.) The chrysalis starts out jade green with gold (like, metallic-looking) dots on it. How and why do they make these gold dots? I don't know! They're perfectly arranged just-so. Decoration? Maybe. They don't seem to have much to do with the entrance or exit, which was my first guess.
7.) Those dots start out white and yellow, actually. I know because I saw it. I have no idea how they change to gold.
8.) And then...nothing. Mine took 15 days of nothing. Both of them. 15 days.
9.) Then you start to see wing patterns -- swaths of orange, black, and white dots. I held it in my hand, then. It struck me as one of those capsules that turns into a foam animal when put in water. It was a butterfly-capsule! I could tell!
10.) Overnight, the whole thing turned black, minus the orange swaths. It got a bit of a bulge on one side. Even the gold dots turned black on the bottom. How was this happening? Nothing was going into or out of the chrysalis, and yet crazy magic was happening inside.
11.) It explodes. It must be a silent explosion, or at least a very quiet one, because I didn't hear it from the next room. But it's so fast and so much comes out that it has to be an explosion.
12.) And then, there's this monarch. It's got a polka-dotted body. Imagine that!
13.) Most monarchs live 2-6 weeks, laying their eggs and dying. There are three generations like that every spring-fall where we live. This is a lot of extravagance for such brief glory.
14.) Not all monarchs die off that quickly. For some reason, the fourth generation, born in September-October, (i.e. MY monarchs...) live 6-8 months. Why? What process knows to make these bodies sturdier? I'm amazed.
15.) These built-to-last monarchs make a trip all the way to Mexico to winter. This little creature sitting on my table, when I let it go, will fly all the way to Mexico. I am hundreds of times its size and am built to last a hundred times longer, and still I could not do it. How does it know where Mexico is? How does it not just end up lost over the Gulf? How does so much wind pass over its wings without breaking them? How can it weather storms on its way? I don't know.

I am amazed by this creation. So much work gone into this beautiful thing I've watched be born into the cage I have for it. I have nearly seen the entire process (though I admit to missing the precise beginning of the most pivotal moments) and I am left with more questions than I had before that day weeding my garden. Learning often leaves me this way.

 

one of the little caterpillars I found

 

getting ready to build its chrysalis

  

finishing up its chrysalis

  

from the back side, making its chrysalis

the yellow and white turned into the gold in the picture below

 just beginning to see the wings through the chrysalis (yesterday)

 it looked like this, minus seeing the wings, for 14 days

 butterfly capsule an hour before it emerged

 only now I realize this is part of its face looking through the chrysalis

 just coming out, unfolding wings

 curled wings and other things, floppy antennae

 

black and white underside before the wings unfurled to cover it

 first butterfly taking flight

I can see this second butterfly in front of me, hanging and drying its wings beside its empty chrysalis now. I have no idea how this birth just happened. I see it. It looks impossible. There's no way this creature just emerged from something 1/2 its size. I know it's true, but it's kind of unbelievable. It's one of the every-day miracles on this planet. Maybe it's ridiculous to go on this way about a butterfly. This happens all the time, after all. It's not like I've seen something never-before-seen. I could say, "Yes, I've known since The Very Hungry Caterpillar that this is what happens." Or I could watch, mouth gaping, scratching my head and praising whatever Being understands this and made it so. Maybe it's even more amazing that this is so common-place. How in this broken world can miracles like this happen every day? I stand amazed and believing.

Maybe we can all emerge from these cramped conditions stronger, more beautiful beings, taking flight.

unbroken

Though this whole process with Lia's family being united under one roof is far from a done deal, I have to say at least I am greatly encouraged by the progress I know of. Since this is a case currently being heard in the courts, details of who is saying what are just not available, so I wait with just as many unknowns as the rest of you and likely just slightly different set of unknowns than the Frank family is experiencing themselves. I often break off trying to imagine what they must be going through. I can't imagine.

Someone asked, and I don't know the exact timeline, but sometime this summer, God healed Lia. I don't know how it happened. I don't know if the medical community has a way of explaining this or if the healing was just as enigmatic as the entire rest of her life until then. But I know that where there was once hurt, brokenness, and a kind of hopelessness, there is now wholeness and the promise of a much-less-painful future. And I know that it doesn't matter to me whether the medical community has a way of explaining it or not -- this sort of a break-through after so many years searching for one is a great miracle. I am in awe of it. It's the sort of miraculous healing that I doubt I could comprehend, even if it were explained to me by the best medical professional or even an angel.

And this second healing -- of Lia's family -- that we're asking for involves its own hurt, brokenness, and kind of hopelessness. If healing is going to take place for this, it's going to take a miracle. Much will need to happen to bind up this family and Rhys in particular, I'd imagine. It's the sort of thing that calls into question the very core of who a person is. I wince at the thought of anyone calling me into question, much less a person with the authority to tear my loving family apart. Healing from that will take a miracle. It will take God stepping in.

The hope that presents itself is that He is stepping in. When Lia's body was broken, I found hope in the love I could see within her family and in the persistent faith and constant assertion of God's goodness in the middle of it all. Now, I find hope in how I see the Body of Christ sweeping in to protect and support this part that is broken. Somehow, word is getting out and people are being prompted to support. Some have opened their homes. Some have taken to fasting and prayer. Some have given money. Some have given of their time. Others have offered up their skills. It will take all these things -- serious commitment from friends and kindness of strangers and the favor of God over it all. This is the sort of healing we feel we can comprehend, since we understand talk of relationships and money and generosity. One person has this or that and gives it to someone else. But for all of these people and resources and unseen agents being at the right place at the right time to hear and respond...it is and will be a miracle.

That said, the most easily quantifiable sign of hope we have is the money. The money is not what will solve this problem or heal this family, but as it is going to pay for legal representation, it opens up the road ahead of the Frank family. It's an expensive key. They have to pay $12k to their lawyers by Sept. 11. And this without having a source of income (that was lost when Dave had to stop working to be the adult staying with their kids). Many of us have dealt with losing income. I've never had to deal with it at a time when bills like this were mounting. But yesterday I read from Rhys's mom....

Great news! We are now at approximately $11,276 and are within striking distance of our first goal of $12,000!. Thanks to everyone for their generosity. The Lord is good.

and I am reassured that nothing is impossible for God. This is the first goal. I would imagine some of what is to come depends on how hearings go and how long this is expected to be in the courts. But we're almost to the first goal...maybe EARLY! (Wouldn't that be great?!)

I didn't set up the account to raise the funds, so I have no idea who gives and when, but thank you because I'm sure some of you did. Thanks to all who have been praying and praying and doing whatever it is within your power to do. I'm sure it encourages Rhys; I know it encourages me. We serve a God who is limitless and whose love for us remains unbroken. We know and hope and rely on it being so.

Enriching roots

the family tree that hangs in my grandma's house

I mean the title of this blog in many ways. I like trees and the various parts of them. I like the idea of always stretching higher and never ceasing to grow; I also like being anchored and growing deep in a place. I had the pleasure of sitting down with my Grandma a couple weeks ago to look at old pictures. I had come only hoping for pictures of my Grandma as a young girl. I would never have expected such an exploration of my roots as I got. Since so many generations of my family spent at least some of their lives in the same fold of Black Mountain as I did, I was able not only to look at pictures, but to drive to the places where my relatives lived and worked. I came away feeling even more anchored to the people and the place they called home for a time. It is a wonderful place to grow from.

Last year I started watching and listening to Henry Louis Gates, Jr. explore the family line of various famous people. I've never considered myself much of a history buff, but learning about how individuals came to be who and where they are is fascinating to me. I'm not very impressed by genealogies as a list of names without faces or stories. There is very little for me to connect to in just a name. But back to Henry Louis Gates. I first became interested in watching a documentary on him tracing the roots of famous African Americans, trying to trace them back to Africa. Because that task is so difficult in the case of African Americans, what with the splitting of families and the taking of masters' last names in the era of slavery, I saw what a treasure finding those people (even their names) and their stories truly is.

Alfred and Martha Peters,
my great-great-great grandparents

Right: Ira Peters, my great-great grandfather

Of course, not long afterwards, I reflected that I had never bothered to gather this information about my own family. But there I was, sitting with my Grandma, when it landed in my lap. "This is your great-great Grandpa." (He's the one on the bottom right, with the darker eyes.) His name was Ira Peters. He wasn't originally a Peters, though. We don't know what he was. He was left on the Peters's doorstep as a baby and they raised him. I never knew there was an adoption in my family! I happen to think adoption is pretty cool. Of course, this means I can't trace any medical history back further than Ira Peters, but it's a small price to pay, really. :) This is the family his birth mom knew would take good care of him. Their names were Alfred (1830-1910) and Martha Peters (1830-1900). I don't know any other stories about them, but it looks like great-great-great Grandpa Peters might easily crack a smile.

Lucy (Martin) Peters,
my Mamaw's mom

Lucy (Martin) Peters,
my great-great grandma

So Ira was born in 1861. That means the Peters were 31 when they became his parents. In 1891, when Ira was 30, he married Lucy Martin, who my Grandma calls Grandma Peters. He died in 1908, around age 47.  Lucy, though, lived to be 90. My Grandma knew her and she actually died in the house where we were talking. She was my great-great-grandma. But I knew my great-grandma, Mamaw, so to me this lady doesn't feel far removed; she's Mamaw's mom. I loved seeing pictures of her. She must've been some kind of tough lady. Grandma said that since Ira had died young, she was left to raise (I think it was 6?) kids by herself. So she ran a farm and raised the kids herself. She made sure they all (including the girls) got an education, which was not common back then. I admire this lady. Just look at her. In every picture (and there are several), she looks so spunky and no-nonsense.

Mamaw Sherman in front of her house
up Gap Branch in Lynch, KY

Clifford and Gertrude Sherman,
my Papaw and Mamaw Sherman,
my great-grandparents

So "Grandma Peters" lived to be 90 and had a lot of kids. One of them was my Mamaw, Gertrude (Peters) Sherman. Mamaw was born in 1899, I believe. She lived to be 100, which means our lives overlapped until I started college. She married my great-grandpa, Clifford, and they had 6 kids. I knew each of them to a great or lesser extent. Here are a couple shots of them that I like. (I knew my "Papaw Sherman" too...but I'm just following the women here, for brevity's sake.)
She and Papaw Sherman raised their family up Gap Branch in one of the little houses built by the coal company for its employees. Grandma once called it Shack 11, but immediately made sure to let me know how nice they had made the place. Later, they moved a few miles up the valley to Cumberland, to the house where I was sitting with my Grandma. I remember celebrating her birthday every year in that house with family and a few family friends. We crammed 50-70 people in their house and all tried to come close enough to see the cake when we sang "Happy Birthday."
Mamaw Sherman raised her own six children, who are or were fine people to know and I knew/know them each, since everyone who was ever related to my Mamaw has never stopped getting together for family reunions twice a year. (We usually only make one of them, though.) Mamaw also took in her aging mother for the last five years of her life. When she was 60, she started raising one of her grandsons and did a very fine job.

Juanita Sherman around age 14
my grandma

my Papaw and Grandma when they were dating

One of the children she raised was my Grandma, who was born in 1930. She was a cute little girl from all the pictures. I'm not sharing them all here, but I plan to make good use of them. :) She grew up in Lynch during the Depression. When she was 19, she married my Papaw, Jim Slusher, who was one of the orneriest men I've ever known. We all loved him for it. They got married in 1949 and were married over 50 years before he died when I was in college. They lived in Lynch, too, mostly downhill from where Grandma grew up on Gap Branch. Grandma told me how glad she was to move into their little (but "bigger" to them) house that had two bedrooms plus one that was converted from a little porch. They raised their four kids there -- a fact which amazes us all when we think about it. I think it was around 1992 or so that they moved in with Mamaw and Papaw Sherman to take care of them as they were getting older. (Grandma would talk about when the older generation stopped "keeping house," a phrase I like a lot. It's a good job description.) She has always quietly taken care of whatever needed done, making it seem effortless. She is still very good at keeping house, and we were well-fed during our stay with food she had grown just down the hill.

My dad and his cousins in Mamaw's yard. That's him on
the left in the loud pants. He says I don't understand.

My mom and dad when they were younger than I am now

Grandma's second child and first son was my Dad, James. Unfortunately, I didn't scan many pictures of him on this trip, though this one stood out! My mom thought he looked cute, I guess. They got married 35 years ago and lived in the town between Lynch (where my dad grew up) and Cumberland (where my mom grew up): Benham. I grew up there until 1990. Like his dad, my dad was a coal miner and worked in Lynch. (My great-grandpa, Papaw Sherman, had a job working the trains at the mine in Lynch.) In 1990, my dad was one of many coal miners laid off and we moved to central Kentucky, where I spent the second half of my childhood. My parents still live in the house I grew up in there. We visited the mountains often, since it is where both sides of my family are from.

In 1981, James and Libby Slusher had a daugher: me! Four years later, they also had a son, but he'd be mad if I re-posted the picture I scanned of him here! :) I wonder what parts of all these people ended up in this little face and how much of my personality was handed directly to me from some of the people in these pictures.

little me

I feel so rich! I have all these pictures on my computer to share. I felt rich hearing personal accounts of years and people I never knew. I feel rich being able to talk to and spend time with my Grandma, who still works as hard as women half her age! I feel rich because I knew and remember four of my great-grandparents. I feel rich hearing of the hardship that had to be overcome in order for things to work out for me to even exist! My family is made of people who were born in and who took in. My family was a group of hard-working people from the mountains of Kentucky, largely coal miners and teachers. They lived long lives and each generation cared for their parents in their old age. We raised our own food (still do to an extent!) and loved sharing food together. We weren't rich in money, but each generation did very well with what they had. It is a proud legacy I hope to carry on. Thanks for letting me share some of it with you!

me and my Grandma after looking through all these pictures
(same place as the picture of my dad in those pants!)

on worms and little girls

not my picture, but it seemed a good illustration.

Life seems more full of great (or, you know, not-so-great) moments these days than trains of thought, but there is a very sweet moment I have to share from today.

     Eden and I were walking home and she happened upon a dead worm on the sidewalk. It was hard and flat. And dead. She picked it up, turning its two dimensions around, trying to figure out why it wasn't the way it was supposed to be, I guess. I didn't wait for her to ask.
     "It's dead," I told her.
     "We can put it in the shade," she said, since that's what we do with worms when we dig them up. We bury them in our compost pile. It makes for all kinds of small "good" in the world. I've taught her well.
     "No, don't touch it. You're going to need to wash your hands. It's dead."
     I took her hand to keep walking so she wouldn't stick her dead-worm-toting fingers straight into her mouth. She made some other hopeful sort of suggestion.
     "No, it's DEAD," I said, again. "It's not going to come back alive again. Dead things don't come back alive."
     "But people come back alive," she said in her matter-of-fact way.
     We just finished learning the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the grave. And we talk about Jesus giving us new bodies when these die. And I've made up and taught the kids a song on the verse "All things are possible with God." I guess me saying that dead things don't come back alive sent these recent contradictory snippets running through both our minds. However, it's not generally the way things work. The girl is going to have to know that. But in a way that doesn't cancel out the truth of all those things I've taught her. How is it God works, anyway? I don't really know. What can I say?
     "Well, people only come back alive because Jesus makes them."
     We kept walking. Eden made another effort: "We could put water on it."
     I realized I had two choices. I could proclaim to her that there is never any hope for dead, dried-up things. We could leave the worm there and it would most certainly stay dead. Or we could take the worm back to our yard, stick it in some wet dirt, and let the conversation continue on its own without me having to drill into her the ugly truths about dead worms and dead things in general. I went with Option B.
     We went back to the worm. Eden remembered exactly where it was as I was still searching for it. Looking at it, I had to admit that, though it was completely dried up, it wasn't completely hard and flat. It had one little spot on it that looked like it might bend instead of break if you forced the issue.
     I let her pick it up again and I carried it home in a discarded McDonald's cup. We put it in the peat moss under our apple tree, poured some water on it, and buried it with a thin layer of the watered ground. Water. Shade. That's all we could do. I put the cup we had used to carry it home upside-down over it to mark the spot so we could check on it later. I didn't want the false hope offered by a bird finding it first or something.
     After naptime, I decided to have the first look. I took the cup away and the worm was gone. I dug around and spread out the dirt. Yep. Gone.
     What happened to the worm? I guess I can't say for sure. There's always some chance I'm wrong, but I told Eden it crawled away. (Wouldn't you know she was sad about this, crying that she wanted to keep it?)
     There are plenty of unpleasant things I'm going to have to teach my kids. Plenty of unpleasant things and downright horrible things I've already had to tell them about the world. But on this day, in this moment with my sweet little girl, she has taught me well.

visions and sights around the corner

If you read the post on my other blog about needing to get out of my yard sometimes, you'll catch the irony that I just returned from a vacation across the mountains and am happy to begin work in my yard. Then again, the whole point of vacation is to help you return  ready to tackle your normal life with renewed vigor, right?

At least for the first week+ back, we've all felt the extra umpf to work out in the yard we bought last year, which is just around the corner from our back yard. Iz in particular only wants to "work outside" all day, every day. Walk to friends? No, thanks. I want to work in the yard. Eden is happy picking raspberries to share with the neighbors all day long.

You see, we've had this plan. We drew it up months ago on the site growveg.com. It makes me happy to sit and just look at it. We won't get the plan done in one year, for sure. I've been calling it a 5-10 year plan. But the awesome thing is how much of it we've been able to get done in the last month!

There it is! THE PLAN. You can map out your yard (our house is along most of the bottom of this drawing, with the kids' playhouse in our regular back yard at the bottom right and the front of the property on the far left) and fill in whatever plants you want! It automatically fills in the suggested spacing for each plant and will even give you a graph showing when to plant and harvest each crop! Genius! So here's how it's going:

The weekend before vacation, we rented a bobcat to pull as much gravel as possible out of the yard. I think the yard was about 40% gravel, at least a foot deep. Maybe more. An epic 2 driveways and an improved alley later (you're welcome, Muncie...), our yard looked slightly different than it had before the three days of work. We're gradually pushing the wild brush and random stuff back to the edges, at least.

 

At this point, neighbors started coming over to ask what we're doing. One next-street-over neighbor we did not know previously came and operated the bobcat one hot afternoon, just because he has a lot of experience doing it and wanted to be kind. Another just came to check it out and give advice. Others say we are absolute angels for working so hard. (I have yet to figure out how those two things are related. Working on my own yard feels just a bit selfish, though I hope to host people in it eventually...or now.) Some let Eden give them raspberries to eat. Kids see us digging and come over to help. It feels like the way things should be.

We didn't get as much done with the bobcat as we'd hoped, so we have been and will be leveling and smoothing the land by rake and shovel from here on out. It sounded horrible to me, but we were able to level the whole garden area in just four evenings of work. Ta-da! (The garden level we did by hand is at the far end of this picture.)

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This is not in our yard...yet.

The PLAN is to dig a trench pond like the one I saw at the Indy Zoo/White River Gardens. It had these frogs shooting water into it and that seemed really fun to me. (That's the blue in the drawing.) It is so much fun to me to be an adult who is able to see something like that and realize I could put it in my own yard for very little money. (I think. We're not done, yet!) We were going to have it just be a semi-circle near the house, but then we went to Williamsburg and saw the cute bridge over such a feature and thought, Why not? We have lots of extra wood to build one. So I think we'll give it a shot. Not that we know about building bridges. Maybe our neighbors do.

the little bridge at Williamsburg
It will go to the right of the left-hand tree in the picture below.

 

After we got the basic garden shape dug and leveled, we got a bunch of old cedar boards (like 50 years old!) that had been the stands at the fairgrounds in town. We've heard a rumor that John Dillinger's butt may have been on one of these very boards.... :) In one day, with the help of a dear middle school student, we built, filled, and planted nine beds! (We have to leave open space for future construction for now.) To my astonishment, we have not 2 beds of tomatoes, but more than four! 50 TOMATO PLANTS!!! Oops! I kept thinking we didn't really have many. I will have to become well-seasoned at canning this fall.

 

as close as I can get to an aerial view of the yard to show how the overall plan is coming along

So there it is for now. It was long past its due date, but I'm proud of it like it's a new baby or something. But this time of year, everyone's inviting each other over to come check out their gardens. It's what we do. Hope you enjoyed the virtual tour. Come over whenever you want and I'll hand you a shovel as I expound upon this brief history! Holler down the street or send me a link and I'll come check out your garden, too!

you know what's sexy?

There is no deep thought in this post. Now that we're all freed from that burden....

Last night, I responded to a last-minute invitation to join some friends at a bar*. I excitedly jumped at the chance for some girl time.

 I had been working in my yard ALL DAY LONG. Staining the fence, digging up plants, etc. etc. I looked like a mess and only left myself about 5 minutes to be presentable enough to leave my yard. I came in the house and put on some green pants from when I worked in a group home, a black polo-style shirt I got to hide my post-partum belly, and the black sandals I just wore hiking. I never feel like I can quite shake a frumpy mom shadow these days. Whatever. I threw my hair up into two "messes," which accentuated the "not out to look impressive" look in my mind. I'm fine with that. I like to go out like that on purpose sometimes. (I'm not sure it counts as not taking yourself too seriously if you have to think about it this much, but I try, anyway.)

I go to leave and Pat says, "Some guy is going to hit on you looking like that."
"No one's going to hit on me, Pat."
He shrugs in disbelief. I add:
"This is not the bar to go to if you want people to be hitting on each other." It hovers nicely beyond the college scene without going into the old perpetually drunk scene. I tell him the only interactions I have with guys there is annoying my friend's husband, who works there and is often our server. (Maybe he's not annoyed. I don't know. But I think servers must get annoyed with the girl who comes in only for a root beer or a cheap appetizer. Sorry, bar-tending world.) Knowing I'm totally right about the crowd that would be there, I head out the door.

When I return home, I proudly announce that no one hit on me. See? As mom's night out looking as it gets!
Then I remembered and had to admit:  "Well, some dude made a call at me and [my sexy friend] well after he had passed us walking to our cars." Then I remembered another fact that needed to come to bear on the situation. "But, come to think of it, I also got hollered at while I was planting flowers yesterday." (I look SO messy like that and I'm not being humble.) "And I used to get hit on a lot more when I was pregnant. Come to think of it, most of the time when I get hit on, it's at times like that! It's not when I'm dressed up or looking nice. Why is that?" I ask my husband these things because he's a guy. He would know.

(Here I'll include a quickly-assembled collection of photos I'm calling my "If you want to get hit on....". I'm doing this for educational purposes, but also because people like to post pictures of themselves in sexy poses online. Sorry these are uncensored. I didn't know which parts to bleep out.)

Do something really disgusting. There were no males around as I scraped unidentified goo off this bathroom floor, but I'm sure it was safer that way.

Wear your hair up in messes and have a young child with you.



[         TOTALLY CENSORED        ]

Okay, I actually just couldn't find a picture of me pregnant and pushing a stroller.
I didn't know at the time how incredibly hot it was.
Such sexyness is probably too much for a family-friendly blog, anyway.

Wear a t-shirt you got in 8th grade that is totally worn and covered in paint.

Forget makeup. Opt for construction mess.

See? I went home with this guy. :)

We threw around some ideas that would explain this phenomenon. I know I am not the only one who has noticed. Other friends would testify that they get hit on more when mowing their yards or pushing a stroller or whatever. Pat concluded the discussion by saying, "I think the only qualification for a guy to think a woman's sexy is that she is a woman."

Is he right, world? Is he right? What gives?


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*It goes without saying that, even though I don't like beer, I think it's SO much cooler to go hang out at a bar with my friends than to go all get our nails done or something. It also goes without saying that we don't get drunk or go there to party hard or anything, so no one's mom needs to worry about us.