Treat Bags at a Funeral

This spring saw the passing of Lucille, a woman I have known my entire life. A native of our town, a friend of my mom and the person who had been a member of our church longer than anyone else living. Living into her 90s, she had lived an active life up until the last few years. Well into her 80s she remained an active member of the our state capitol's hiking club. I think that is pretty impressive.

She had a heart for helping and caring or others. At her funeral, I learned that she had always wanted to be a nurse but life had other plans for her and she never became an RN. What she did become was a caring mother, a doting grandmother who spent many hours caring for her grand-daughter and the caregiver to her husband who died before he could retire. After his death, she became a home health aide and worked with many people in the area. That job was interrupted with her daughter's diagnosis of cancer. Lucille cared for her divorced daughter up until the day she succumbed to it and also continued to care for her grand-daughter afterwards. A few years later, her only sibling died. Her brother, a farmer who never married, had his meals brought to him daily by his little sister, Lucille. She also did his laundry and mending. For the rest of her life, Lucille's only family consisted of her grand-daughter and eventually, her grand-daughter's husband.
Her beloved grand-daughter spoke with laughter and tears at Lucille's funeral. She shared quick stories of events in her grandmother's life, some of Lucille's favorite things -- flowers and the color pink -- and how she owed so much to her grandmother, including the desire to help others after Lucille's example; she became a nurse as her mother had before her.

At the luncheon that followed, cake was served with pink frosting and as each of us left, we were given a brown paper bag decorated with stickers of pink tulips and tiny polka dots containing a pink geranium. A tag was taped to the bag stating that we were to plant this gift in our gardens and to think of Lucille each time we looked at the geranium and cared for it. It was the only time  I have gotten a 'treat bag' for attending a funeral and while it seems kind of weird in a way, when I think of the lady and what the gift represented, I am touched by the gesture and fondly remember Lucille. Each time I look at those pale, pink petals I am reminded of her caring heart and hands and while life may not let you become what you want, just bloom and grow where you are planted.

Rock Show at the Civic Center

June 4, 1976.  A beautiful spring day, bordering on being hot.  A few puffy clouds in the sky, new leaves on the trees in that shade of green that is only found in spring-time leaves.  in the days of festival seating, my friend, Carol Anne and I waited about 10 hours in line for Paul McCartney & Wings at St. Paul's Civic Center. We made friends of the group next to us in line and spent the day talking, taking turns getting food to save our place in line, hearing the sound check and the security guard on the other side of the gate taunting and teasing us.  When the gates opened, making a run for it while the guys attempted to hold the crowd back. I almost fell in the crush of people but we managed to get seats for the gang about 7-10 rows from the stage. I just found this clip last week and I am sure if the quality was better, you could see us.  Surely it was a memory-making day and one of the best concerts I've ever attended.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxUTrMkH7Cc

Weekend of the butt

This seems to have become the weekend of the butt and things related to it at our house. The other night at dinner, the youngest started it off with this little gem at the dinner table:

If you read some of my posts on Facebook, you'll know that the 10 year old certainly keeps things lively at our house. Tonight she was telling about how the kids in her class were comparing the ages of their parents by the year they were born. She double-checked with my husband by asking if I was born in 1950. I told her "58" and that confused her. "1858?' she asked. Snickers from the teen and dad. "1958" I replied. Teen pounced on this to show her superiority, Do you know HOW OLD that would maker her?!", she asked incredulously. Under his breath, i really did hear dh say "She'd be farting dust".
I get no respect.

Last night, said 10 year old got to have a friend over for a sleep-over. The conversation in the back seat made the drive back to our house pretty entertaining. My child asked the other if there was much 'drama' at her school. She wasn't sure. My child related the soap opera rate at which other 5th grade classmates were 'dating' and breaking up to which her friend then told her there was no drama of that kind in her class. There was, however, a lot of stink from a couple of boys (and a few others I'm sure) and that her classroom was called the Fart Factory. 
Further discussion was whether it was better to let the fart out all at once-- loud and proud, letting go a little bit at a time or holding them in and bearing the pain.

This morning, I was listening to Bob Seger (in town last night with Kid Rock, weird combination IMHO) singing his heart of about loving to watch her strut. When it got to the line "they do respect her but" I heard it in a whole new way. Now I am hoping for a little derriere deference or rear regard for myself. Considering the dinner table comment from my true love, I am not holding out hope on that one.

It's been almost a year again so it must be time for a post.


I'm thinking.

...   ...  ....

Still thinking.


Aha! I have been fairly good about getting at least 10 minutes of writing in each day. It hasn't happened yet today unless you count this.
I have entered one writing contest so far this year; last year I think I submitted 3 or 4. I am not very good but it's more interesting than doing crossword or soduko puzzles and I can only improve, right?


I am home with a not so sick 10 year old. It's been nice being home today and knitting, You Tube-ing, and eating cappucchino muffins. I have also done 2 loads of laundry, made lunch, and filled the dishwasher to earn my keep.

Last night I came up with an idea for the local Peeps diorama contest. Now to get it made.

If I don't post before 2014, Happy New Year!

Really?

OK. I guess 1 post per year is my limit. Since last year, changes have come; some easy, some harder than I would like. I have taken the plunge and entered 2 writng contests and created a Peeps diorama. The writing is awful but it does feel good to stretch my wings and do something that I used to love to do. The diorama never got entered becasue I thought the deadline was at midnight. turns out it was at 5 p.m. I missed the deadline by 3 hours.
Some things never change, like, dare I say it? The stupidity of people!

http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/olympics-organizers-ask-keith-moon-to-play-closing-ceremony-20120413

Really. What can I say? I'll just walk away with my mouth hanging open.
Happy 2012.

Changes

Lately I have been pondering change. there are many quotes to be found about it--check out quotegarden.com. David Bowie sings that "time may change me, but you can't change time". Arbys tells us that "change is good". I was never quite sure if they meant coinage or life in a state of flux.

• A year ago at this time, I spent my time looking at rescue dogs on PetFinder.com; now we are owned by a dog.


• A year ago I was working with people I have known for years; now, they are retired and I an one 0f the 'senior' employees there.


• Eleven months ago, I still had two girls; now I am the mother of a teenager, How'd that happen?


• Two months ago, I weighed 3 pounds less than I do now. No comment.

Last Sunday, we took a vote at church and in 3 months, we will no longer be a congregation going by the name that we have gone by for 150+ years; we will be a 'satellite' church of a larger one of our denomination. We will most likely be a core group of the same people but go by a new name and there will be new worshippers from the larger church 'planted' in ours to help us to grow. It is scary and exciting at the same time. For the last few months I have been telling myself and family members that this is similar to when a woman marries -- she changes her name but she is still the same person. Secnds later, I get all sentimental and maudlin about a name that will be changing. Then, I decide it is still a good thing as the leadership of this church has been handed down to myself and others and how it is now our turn to pray and reflect on what is best and what is God's Will for this body of believers. And, this will be the third name our church has had in 16 decades. So there.

• In the last 50 years, the church has gone from 200 members with a large Sunday School program to just my 2 kids and sometimes the kids of another family (except for hockey season when they are never there).


• In 50 years, we have built 2 additions to the building.


• In 50 years, we have gone from a part-time preacher to 9 full-time preachers and back to a part-time preacher.


• We have gone from 2 Sunday services and a Saturday evening service to one service attended by about 26 people weekly.


• We have gone from a congregation of descendants of the founders -- farmers and local merchants -- to worshippers from all walks of life and from all over the globe.

Changes? I guess there has always been change. Sometimes it's little things that you barely notice and sometimes, it's things that look majorly mind-blowing. One thing I know, it will always happen and all I can do is accept that and take it one day at a time.

Today I confess to being a bad blogger. OK, maybe not a bad blogger but probably a lazy, errant, forgetful, absentee blogger. I have 2 children (my main source for possible blog posts) who constantly warn me "Don't put that on your blog!", but since it's been so long since I posted, they don't say that anymore. Now they warn "Don't put that on Facebook!". And so, dear children, I think I will start posting on the blog again. Bwa-ha-ha-ha!
I will try to post at least once a month and it may be about the kids, or work, random thoughts, or haiku. I need to start writing again.
For starters, we are now owned by a dog. He is a cute little thing; rescued at 9 months, he came to live with us at 10 months of age. He has been with us since August of last year. He sleeps with hubby and me and is very considerate and sleeps by our feet and always the same direction as we are sleeping. Until last night. Actually, he slept in the right direction until 5 this morning when he decided he had to go outside and check out the snow levels. He woke up his favorite door-person, me, checked the snow level, watered it, and when we went back to bed, he decided to sleep crossways. Not a horrible problem since he is pretty small but he could've moved about 6 inches to the center of the bed! I couldn't get comfortable after a few minutes and ended up getting up at 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Now most days of the week, I am up and getting dressed at that time but this was a Saturday morning!
So today is the start of a brighter blogging future for me. Notice that I didn't write about any of the charmingly cute or royally annoying things the kids did, and if the dog continues to sleep crossways, you'll be finding many more posts from me.