Grandma's Heart

 I look down at Jaren with red eyes and blanket in hand, and reach my arms out to him and he reaches his to mine.  I swoop him up into my arms, wrap his blue blanket around him and cuddle him close.  "I'm chilled, Grandma," says this little three year old to me.  "I know, Sweetheart, you are sick with a fever and it's causing you to be chilled."  His head rests against me content for the moment with my lap as his mother is occupied with the baby, Oliver.    I hold a sippy cup to his mouth and he drinks from it and I hold him a little tighter rocking gently back and forth with him trying to bring comfort to this precious grandson of mine.

The other day I had given Evelyn and him stickers to play with.  He had placed all but three stickers on his pages and I asked him what he was going to do with the last three stickers.  He said, "I'm saving them for Mommy."  I turned back to my computer and a moment later Jaren was standing there reaching up to me handing me a sticker.  The sticker remains on the speaker that sits on my desk.  My heart bursts.

Ray and I were sitting in a love seat watching a Christmas movie while the kids were playing games around the table.  Aspen climbed up between us and laid her head against me.  I reached my arm around her as I gently ran my fingers through her hair.  Quiet, content, love filled the room.  She sat there for the longest time as I marveled at the closeness we share though this granddaughter lives so far away and seldom sees me.

Gifts!  I am surrounded by them.  That wry smile on Stuart's face, yea, the one that beacons me to see him as someone special.   I do.  He is a first, first boy, firstborn grandchild, first grandson, first to climb to the top of the pine tree as it swayed dangerously back and forth at just four years old, first to stop my heart, first...

He'll be the first to graduate in the spring.  My heart stands still for a moment.  Stop.  Stop please.  Tears.  This tall young man that reads thick books, plays video games, rock climbs, with the messed up hair and unshaven face... where are you headed young man?  As you fly your toy helicopter that Laura got you, where are you headed?  More tears.  I can't hold on and I don't want to hold you down...but I can pray as you venture forth ~ I'll always pray.

School Days

Sitting down to breakfast this morning, I recognized the handwriting on the card even though the return address was covered up.  The same handwriting that was on so many of those notes we passed back and forth during school days.  I would recognize it anywhere.  It was Diane's, one of my oldest and dearest friends, having met when we were just starting junior high when we shared the same bus from the elementary school to the high school.  We have remained close friends ever since.  She was there when Shannon was born.  We shared our first apartment together.  She received her cosmetology license before graduating from high school and was the first to cut my long hair into a short pageboy like Tennille's of Captain and Tennille.  I went to my first concert, America, with her.  I was there when Charlie rode up on his motorcycle trying to steal her away.  I was maid of honor in her wedding and have the pictures of tripping and putting my hat back into place with my necklace still askew, to prove it, and she was maid of honor at mine.  We have a long history together and I think anyone that is interested in our high school antics would like to know one particular story about us.

We decided to skip class one day and thought we'd spend our great adventure in the "ladies room" instead of class.  Why?  I couldn't tell you.  Who knows why kids do the things they do?  Anyway, here we were in the ladies room, the first place the office personnel would check every hour and we knew it.  We had to make a plan of excuse or the next day we would be in trouble for not having a pink slip to get back into class.  The plan was one of us would pretend to be crying, as the other one was consoling, over the loss of a boyfriend.

I said something to this effect, "Diane, I will have to be the one crying or you know I will laugh.  You will have to be the serious one because you can control yourself better..."  Then, I went into play-rolling with my head in my hands pretending to cry just as the office secretary entered the room.  Diane was so cool.  She instantly went into action, patting my back and saying, "it will be alright, Linda...," as she explained to the secretary about the sorry sap that had dared to break my heart. With my head still in my hands, I started laughing so hard my body was jerking as the tears flew, much as I am doing right now just recalling the incident.  The guttural sounds spewing forth from me and the gasps for air, could very easily have been a young person in the agony of gut wrenching pain rather than the uncontrolled laughter of a teenager.  It was so compelling. The similarity between  responses evoked from different ends of the spectrum could clearly be seen here.

The poor secretary, having witnessed such devastating emotions, readily gave us a pink slip the next morning to return to class without penalty, leaving us in wild exhilaration over the most dramatic day.

An Unexpected Storm

There was nothing unusual about us riding horses when we were kids.  That is, until an unexpected storm blew up on us one day as we were riding home from the oil fields.  The skies were clear when we started out that morning.  I waved goodbye to Darwin Bergeron, who let me ride his horse, Dewey, and he waved back from where he sat on his tractor in the middle of a large hay field.  He had work to do and couldn't go with us.  I am saddened to this day at the thought that he had to remain behind so often to work rather than ride with the rest of us during those teenage years.

I was riding Dewey bareback that day, as I always did, and was about to find out what it was like to try to stay on a running horse in the pouring rain.   A group of us headed out.  I think Lloyd and Dennis Southworth were with me, along with Arvilla and Dawn, and possibly Sheree, but it's been too many years to remember exactly who rode out on that stormy day but the ride was unforgettable.  We had rode through the back woods that trailed through the oil fields where dirt lanes were formed leading from one oil rig to the next.  It had been a great ride.  Lloyd and Dennis were both impressive riders and we grew up with horses, so we were naturals by that time ~ or so I thought...

Our ride was cut short when dark storm clouds blew up unexpectedly.  We headed for home in a hurry, saying goodbye to Lloyd and Dennis as they turned into their place.  We were heading up Bishop Road, toward the cross road where we would make a turn towards Bergeron's barn to return Dewey, when a loud clap of thunder boomed across the sky and a down pour of rain  was unleashed.  In the same instant, the horses sprang into a run for their lives that didn't stop until they came to a sliding halt at the barn.
Hard as I pressed the bit, there was no stopping Dewey nor slowing her down.  My legs were moving so fast along her sides by the shear thrust of her moving body that only my balanced upper body kept me from falling off.  Her sides were like a greased poll from the pouring rain.  I could hear the thundering hoof beats racing behind me, increasing with speed with each new clap of thunder, but I didn't dare turn to look for fear of losing balance and falling only to be trampled to death by the fear driven horses that were following.  Years later, Mr. Robinson, where I boarded my first horses and took riding lessons along with the girls, warned me that horses could get scared out of their heads.  Well, I had first hand knowledge of that bit of information. Ahead, the crossroads were coming up fast and I knew Dewey would lose me when she made the turn towards home.  By some miracle I held on but another turn at Bergeron's driveway was just up ahead.  I managed to hold on there too as she raced around the turn.  The barn was now in front of us and Dewey would surely come to a sliding halt in front of the barn and the momentum would throw me over her head.

Just as expected, from a full out run she lowered her haunches and came to a beautiful sliding halt within a mere few feet of the barn.  Although I wasn't thrown over her head, I landed on her neck with my arms wrapped tightly around her.  I was thankful she didn't lower her neck and send me sprawling into the side of the barn.  We had a lot of fun at Bergeron's barn swinging from one end of it to the other on a pulley and making tunnels through the hay and riding horses, always riding horses. Darwin was good to let me ride his horse.  He was an unselfish friend to me and remains highly esteemed with every recollection of him.

The Quilt

The antique show was being held at the fairgrounds in Centerville, Michigan one summer where Sheree and I stopped by to browse through the many booths on display.  I had been to another antique show a few years earlier in this same location where I found more of the dishes that I collect.  Someone might have thought I knew more about antique china than I actually did when I asked the dealer if this was Bavaria by Schumann Arzberg, Germany and it just so happened to be.  I bought the dishes and brought them home and added them to the rest of my set.  It was exciting to see old funiture, books, dishes, pots and pans, bright colored table clothes that used to be common when we were growing up, and the many quilts...  I love historical homes and even history now that I'm out of school.  Antiques are a new fascination to me.  The things they call "antiques" are the very things that I grew up with and the familiarity of them arouse pleasant memories.

Sheree and I were going from booth to booth admiring this and that along the way when I noticed Sheree had lingered behind me as I was talking with a lady that had the most brilliant colored old quilt edged with red piping around the scalloped edges.  It was beautiful and in mint condition for it's age.  She spread it across the table so I could see that it didn't have a flaw on it.  I asked her the price and then told her I would love to have it but regretfully I can not afford such a luxury.   I walked on turning to notice Sheree still a few booths behind me before stepping through the doors of the indoor displays where antique furniture filled the building.  I had been in there for awhile and wondered why Sheree hadn't entered yet?  I went outside to find her but she wasn't anywhere in sight.  Going back through the building and out the other side, I started to head out toward our parked car when I finally met Sheree coming toward me.  She gave some excuse as to where she had been and I didn't think anything more about it until I got home...

Without saying a word to me, Sheree went about her business as though nothing was afoot.  Going into my room, there, laying on the bed, was the very same quilt I had admired at the antique show with the simplest of notes inscribed:  To: Linda, Love, Sheree.    The gift held immense value but the giver immeasurable value!

A Master at Work

Introductions

My gentle Louie  introduced himself  to a new acquaintance today.   Having been attacked a couple times by vicious dogs, he still remains a well socialized dog with the willingness and eagerness to make a new friend any chance he gets.

                                         

We met a puppy during our morning walk.  There was no fence to prevent Louie from approaching this happy, welcoming, albeit a little skepticle, puppy.  Having been in Collie rescue with Louie for years, I knew this puppy was safe around him.  Louie is well socialized, sensitive, and shows empathy towards other dogs. He would notice the shy Collies that were too timid to run and play and would engage them by nipping at their feet excitedly or jumping in the most ridiculous fashion to get their attention.  He had a way of drawing them out of themselves turning them around, almost single handedly, to where they could be adopted into forever homes.  I have seen Louie lay down next to a crying Collie pup that had to be crated. The pup soon quieted down and fell asleep snuggled against Louie's back with the bars of the crate between them.  

I let Lou approach the pup as I stood back and watched with wonder the easy way he had with other dogs.  Within minutes they were fast friends at play.  The pup whined when we left him to continue on our walk.  It was a pleasant sight to watch a master at work making a new friend.

A master at work making a new friend

An Unexpected Visit From Vivien

The door bell rang and there stood Vivien to my surprise and warm welcome, with plans to spend the whole day with me.  We decided to make the most of this picturesque day by driving through the country and getting some pictures. 

About to jump

It was a good year for the farmers in our area.  The corn stood tall in the field.  The wheat waved richly golden and the big round bales of hay were ready to be stored for the winter.  I used to buy the big round bales for our horses when hay was running low towards the end of winter and before the first cutting of spring.  There is nothing like the smell of fresh cut hay.  

Against an old board fence

I was able to snap a lot of pictures of my photogenic granddaughter doing her jumps and twirls off the hay and walking through the tall grass.  She is beautiful!  She has her mother's sense of humor and her father's handsome, dark features.  She also has the desire to grow up too fast and miss these fleeting years of youth. I would like to see her take a deep breath and walk slowly through these tender years.  Why do we want to rush into adulthood?  I guess it's because we want to go our own way without having to answer to anyone.  We're all like that to some degree. We like doing what we want, when we want.  She will learn that accountability and responsibility are lifetime obligations.   For now, I would like to see her live her life in a way that will please God and enjoy her youth before embarking into the world of adulthood.  That will come!