Snippets and Snatches

I welcome the new season of life that gives me a beautiful baby grandaughter to hold!  My friends saw this picture on my phone and thought I was praying for Carmen.  Well, I have been praying for her A LOT but at the moment my husband snapped this I was watching tv.  Not such an intentional holy moment as it might seem and yet every moment with her, with any baby IS holy.  I have been far removed from the daily world of babies since my own were little and suddenly I am immersed once more in the miraculous moments of babydom.  But, oh, how things have changed!

Did you know that newborn diapers have velcro tabs now and a line that turns blue on the outside if the diaper is wet?!  I kept thinking I ruined the tab trying to open it to the sticky stuff like on Christmas bows.  Sophia had to show me and I was amazed.  Oh and I had no idea what a boppy was, or a snugli or a diaper genie…thought that was someone who magically appeared out of a strange looking container to change the baby’s diaper!  I never had the baby monitors but those sure come in handy.  Now bumper pads in cribs are not safe…thank God my children didn’t suffocate on theirs, I had no idea!  And back then babies could sleep on their bellies but now they are propped slightly tilted on their side with a rolled blanket to support their back.  Oh, and boy did I forget how to swaddle a baby in a blanket…thank God that nice nurse in the hospital walked us through it.  I am so rusty and sure hope I can come into grandmotherhood without too much trouble!  I am in love and simply enjoying this new bundle of joy!!

Oh, and guess what?  There is another grandchild on the way with my son and daughter-in-law this summer!  By then I should be an expert in the ways of modern babydom!  Or, at least, I won’t feel like such a newby grandma.

 I have been looking for this picture for a very long time and finally stumbled across it on a friend’s blog, after many years of searching.  It is a painting by the German artist, Bernhard Plockhorst, called The Good Shepherd. It is an image that I have carried in my mind’s eye since I was a little girl.  When I was very young I wanted my own room desperately.  I was so envious of my only-child friend who had a room of her own with a full-size canopy bed AND another room for all her many toys and dolls.  I loved playing at her house because we hardly ever fought over her dolls, there were so many to choose from.  Even my best friend in the neighborhood had her own room.  With just one brother it was no problem at their house for each of them to have their own room.  At my house, with six children and a live-in grandma, having my own room was never going to be an option.  My sister and I shared a room for all of our childhood, sometimes happily, but more often than not we had to draw the battle lines with masking tape and divide the room in half just to keep the peace.

At some point, in my futile quest for my own space, I got the BEST idea ever to turn my half of the closet into my very own room!  I didn’t know then that I was making a prayer closet, I just wanted peace and quiet!  So I cleared out the shoes and junk and made a place for me to sit on a blanket- covered box, put in a tiny table with my bedside lamp and hung this favorite picture I cut out of an old Sunday school book on the wall, just above the light.  The only other being allowed in my room was my very best friend, my dog.  I made Shana a place at my feet on a comfy throw rug.  We cuddled up in there together and I would shut the sliding door so NOBODY could bother us and I’d spend hours reading, drawing, or just sitting.  I know, it sounds a little weird but not for an introverted artist trying to find her way.  In those many moments I stared at this beautiful picture of Jesus holding the little lamb, loving and protecting the vulnerable creature with all He is, and I felt held and loved too.  I knew the story about the one lost little lamb out of the ninety-nine that Jesus would search for no matter what and I knew that if I were lost that He would come find me and save me.  This is my faith in a nutshell, it really is quite simple: “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

While all the world around me bickers over countless issues, my church is in a schism, and the intellectual brains spew their theological, political, philosophical, pyschological theories, I am going where I know there is peace and love, in the prayer closet of my heart, where this picture of Jesus holding this little lamb is all I need to know.  He isn’t deciding which lamb is worthy or better, which lamb is the right color, gender, race, better looking, more educated, following the right political party or going to the right church.  He loves each one, not one more than another.  And guess what?  He loves the ones I disagree with too!  When you’ve been the lost little lamb in the wilderness and Jesus comes to find you, then there is no need to search any further.  You know your Good Shepherd and you love Him and you are grateful every second that He saved you.  And even if you get lost again and again, He will come find you and set you aright on the path to follow Him.  When you believe and cry out “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner!  Please, save me!”…He will be there in the midst of any and every earthly battle.  Your eyes will look to Him and follow Him and you can’t help but to adore and love Him, as He has adored and loved you, even when you have gone astray.  To know His forgiveness and feel His merciful and unconditional love brings such joy and peace that there is nothing on earth to compare it to.   All else is futile striving and chasing after the wind.  This gift of grace, undeserved and unfathomable, is for everyone who asks Him to live in their heart.

So, let the talking heads bobble and babble on, I am resting in this green pasture and praying Psalm 23, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul.  He leads me in right paths for His name’s sake.  Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff– they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.” NRSV

My Christmas wish, prayer, and song is this: “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.” written in 1955 by Sy Miller and Jill Jackson Miller.

This drawing illustrates one of the classic stories from Greek Mythology that explains the change of seasons and the growth of plants.  I have been drawn to this myth for many years and sometime ago this pen and ink drawing I did was inspired by this story.  As autumn winds roar and golden leaves dance in the chilly air, the earth prepares for its winter rest and I revisit the myth once more…from The Children’s Book of Myths and Legends by Ronne Randall,

“There was a time when the world was warm and sunny all year, trees bore fruit continually, and grain grew again as soon as it was cut down.  The goddess Demeter ruled over all these growing things, and she had a daughter named Kore, which means ‘maiden’ in Greek.

One day Kore  was out gathering flowers when the earth opened up and Hades, lord of the Underworld, rose up in his chariot.  He grabbed the screaming Kore and pulled her down, into the depths of the Underworld.  When Demeter learned that her daughter had become the bride of Hades and was now named Persephone, she stormed and raged.  The earth became cold and barren.

At last Zeus persuaded Hades to send Persephone back, but Hades had one condition – Persephone could return only if she had not eaten anything, but she had sucked six pomegranate seeds. ‘Then she will have to remain in the Underworld for six months of every year,’ Hades declared. ‘For the other six months, she may return to Demeter.’

So for six months every year, when Persephone is in the Underworld, the earth is cold and wintry.  But when she returns to her mother, warmth and life come with her, and the earth brings forth its bounty once more.”

The drawing depicts the rebirth of the earth in spring and the return of Persephone from the Underworld to her mother.  There are layers of meaning and metaphors galore in this tale of wonder.  Imagine Demeter’s  grateful heart full of love as she welcomes her lost daughter home again.

Today I was moved by this: “Paths.  How many feet make a path? All those previous soles imprinted in the earth.  All paths are history written in footprints.  We keep them alive by reprinting them with our own footsteps.  History dies without the present.  There is no future without the path made to it by the past.”  by Aiden Chambers from This Is All: The Pillow Book of Cordelia Kenn

Saved by fiction: Reading as a Christian practice | The Christian Century.

 Today is a very special day!  Just a few hours away will be the baby shower for my daughter, Sophia, and my  first grandbaby, Carmen!  I get to watch my baby girl take her seat in a special chair, the rocking chair she and her brothers Jason and Corey were nursed in, that I have kept for sentimental reasons.  Oh, the precious hours spent in that blessed rocking chair that are now a blur!  How did that little baby become old enough to have her own baby?  How did those treasured days slip by so quickly?  I miss days like the one here in the backyard with our Best Dog Ever, Maia.  She’s right there keeping an eye on Sophia.  I hope she will enjoy being a mother as much as Maia and I did.  I’m excited to find out what being a grandmother is like!  Since this is a day for babies, here are more memories of mine.  Parenting wasn’t easy, but it was worth it!

This image is of a lace wall hanging that has hung on the bedroom door of my mom’s assisted living suite since I gave it to her and my dad as a gift several years ago.  It was one of the things my niece thought to bring over to my mom’s rehab room to make her more comfortable a few weeks ago.  She hung it on her bulletin board at the foot of her bed amidst family photos and get well cards.  Mom was only there a few days before she had to go back to the hospital and the room had to be cleared out for the next person.  But while she was there we talked about this lace wall hanging, how she would stare at it at night when she couldn’t sleep after dad was gone and it brought her such peace.  I need to stare at it now and hear God’s whisper, “Be Still…”

The problem is I’m sort of hard-headed and lost  in a mind sea of turbulent thoughts.  I need to hear God more clearly at this moment while I am waiting for news in the predawn darkness about mom, on her way to the emergency room again after just arriving to the rehab center yesterday.  She was in the hospital nearly two weeks and yesterday the doctors thought she was well enough to discharge her.  In fact, I was staring at this photo when I got the call from my sister that mom was on the way to the hospital.  Hundreds of miles away, there is nothing I can do but wait and pray.  I woke up at three unable to sleep for some reason.  I read my devotions and prayed before sleeplessness led me to the distractions of Facebook and Pinterest.  Sometimes I forget to pray first, surf later but this morning was the right start and somehow I was reminded of this photo,  “Be still and know that I am God!”  It was on my computer screen when my sister called.  I don’t know if God approves of shouting but it might help right now to hear Him order me with the firmness of my dad when I was little to “Be Still!  Be Still and KNOW that I am GOD!”  In other words, I need to trust Him now more than ever.

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Unlike Henny Penny who warned everyone “The Sky is Falling!  The Sky is Falling!” in that ancient children’s fairy tale,  I want to announce good news…”Fall is Coming! Fall is Coming!”  It may not be exciting news to many but if you live in the deep south and endure the summer heat, any inkling of approaching relief gives hope that we are near the end of humid misery.  On my way north last week I stopped at the New River Gorge lookout in WV on a crisp, cool morning.  I don’t always stop here on the journey because I’m usually in a hurry to get where I’m going.  But this day I needed a wake-up call so I wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel.  I thought a walk down to the lookout would perk me up and I could take some pictures on a gorgeous day.  It had been many years since I walked this path and I’d forgotten that there are a gazillion steps down the mountain side!  Going down would be much easier than going up, of course, but it would be worth it just to see the breath-taking views of the world’s longest arc bridge, the trees that in a few weeks would be ablaze of color, and the New River meandering miles below at the bottom of steep mountains.

I needed this inspiring “rest” stop to remind me how my father loved to stop here to take pictures and how my poor mom ended up carrying all his camera equipment everywhere they went on their travels.  He was a much more serious photographer than I and my tiny digital camera that I could carry in the palm of my hand was proof of that compared to his bag full of 35 mm lenses, filters and rolls of film that are now obsolete.  My mom patiently carried that load for him so he could have hands free for the spectacular shots.  I don’t know how much she enjoyed being his photo mule but she rarely complained openly.

I was on my way to see mom again in the hospital, hoping and praying for her healing.  Surely the stamina she has shown us all through this battle with cancer (as well as carrying camera equipment or raising six children) could help me, inspire me, on the uphill battle back to the top of the gorge, up hundreds of steps that can only be taken one at a time.  I know journeys in life can only be taken one step at a time, too.  We don’t know if we will make it to the top but the only way out of a deep valley is to look up and pray for the strength to take the next step, and the next, and the next.  I was a breathless, sweaty mess when I reached the top and definitely awake enough to continue the drive north.

Someday our grandaughter, Carmen, will get to play with the army of Polly Pockets her excited grandfather (abuelito) brought home from a yard sale!  She isn’t born yet and the hundreds of  rubber clothes and shoes are so tiny she will have to wait until she’s old enough not to swallow toys before she can play with them.  But they are safely stored away, all cleaned up and sorted, waiting for her little hands and big imagination…or any other grandchildrens’, to discover them and play with them for countless hours.

I had pretty much forgotten all about Polly Pockets and since I rarely visit a Toys R Us (after practically living in one for over a decade!) I didn’t even know if they were still in the stores.  So, I did a little research (which nowadays means I googled it) and learned all sorts of things!  Even Polly Pocket is in Wikipedia, which surprises me!  Of course, the Polly Pocket line has a series of fashion dolls with names and quirky character descriptions (as well as videos, books, toy houses, cars and vacation getaways).  One of the male dolls has a crush on Polly, no surprise there!  In my Polly Pocket research I also learned the hard plastic clothes with the tiny magnets were recalled several years ago and need to be discarded.  I remember our daughter had some Polly Pockets, but we didn’t keep them when she outgrew playing with them. I’m pretty sure she sold them in a yard sale herself and none of us were thinking about the future!  We did save the Legos, however!  (Now there’s an investment for which we are waiting on a return for our money by saving them for the grandchildren!)

As I washed the rubber clothes, the most laundry I’ve ever done in a day, I was amazed at the durability and flexibility of the rubber.  Why hasn’t some green-minded fashionista thought of this yet?  Imagine a closet full of soft, colorful rubber clothes made from recycled materials that stretches with a “few” extra pounds and never wears out!  I suppose it would be too hot and would still need to be laundered somehow (a garden hose comes to mind) but maybe those issues could be…never mind, I just had a blast from the past of our teenage sons wiggling into rubbery wetsuits to go surfing, nothing I ever want to experience or wear to work or even to clean the house in on a Saturday morning, I’m sure.  Though it might help tighten up a jelly belly!  In any case, we are now ALMOST prepared for a Polly Pocket World…still have to invest in a house, a really cool convertible and a vacation beach house for the Polly Pockets to enjoy life in (it will be crowded for an army this size but that’s life)!