Everyday Life – Page 26 – The Monica Chronicles

May 7, 2012

Happy Birthday Seth

Tomorrow my grandson Seth will turn eleven years old. Like all parents and grandparents, I wonder where the time has gone and marvel how he can be this old when I haven’t aged a bit. Each year when his birthday rolls around I think back on the night he was born and the long road leading to that miracle moment. Seth, whose name means “appointed” was the catalyst in the creation of a new family in a very special way.

Seth’s arrival was heralded, not by angels in a dream, but by a late night phone call which was much more like a nightmare. My teenage daughter, away for her freshman year of college called and blurted out in between sobs that she was pregnant. She said she had decided to have the baby and offer it up for adoption.

It’s funny how when faced with a call like this, the call every mother fears, after the shock passed, all I cared about was the health and safety of my child. Her sorrow tore at my gut. Fighting my own fears, I told her everything would be alright and assured her that her dad and I would be there for her.

After we hung up, I crawled into bed and it was my turn to sob. Dave rolled over and asked my why I was crying. “What will we do?” I cried. He simply said, “Everything will be fine.” “How do you know?” I asked. “I just do.” And with God’s help, it was fine… more than fine.

From the first it was evident that God was working the details for us. My parents were visiting when we received “the call”. I was not sure how or if I would share the news with them but I did. What a gift it was to be able to feel my own mother’s arms around me that day. If ever there was a day I needed a hug from my Mom, it was that one.

holy spirit dove

The next day, Dave brought Maggie home from school weekend so we could gather her close while we discussed the future. The first morning she was home, we noticed a large white bird sitting on our back fence. We are avid bird watchers and familiar with most of our local species of birds. This was not one of them. Someone grabbed the Peterson’s Field Guide. No big white birds in there that weren’t gulls or egrets. Our last resort was the World Book (pre-web Google). We found our bird. It was a fan tailed dove; the same bird God sent down over Jesus when he was Baptized in the Jordan. They are a domestic breed of show pigeons, not generally found sitting on a fences in Virginia Beach. The amazing thing about this particular bird was that it sat on our fence for two whole days while we redefined what it meant to be a family; to love unconditionally and stand beside each other in times fo uncertainty; and God was with us.

A few months later, through an unlikely source, we were introduced to Jim and Bonnie Berryman. They had been trying to start a family for several years and were interested in adoption. Maggie met with them at their home to get to know them and get a feel for what kind of parents they would be. When she came home she said, “The have two geriatric dogs, so they must be good at care-taking.” She chose them to become the parents of her child.

Our relationship with Jim and Bonnie began gently and respectfully. At the time, none of us could have foreseen what God had in store for us. Open adoption was then and probably still is a rare occurrence. At best these type of adoptions only involve the sharing of names and the occasional photo. What we share is so much more. Through the years we have knitted ourselves into family, with lines of where one family begins and the other ends blurred. Our family bonded initially over the love of a child and has been forged by the years of caring and sharing with each other. I can’t imagine what our lives would be like without Jim, Bonnie, Seth and Caleb in it. With intense gratitude to God, I don’t have to.

So Happy Birthday Seth. I thank God everyday that you were appointed to begin our new family. Poppa and I love you very much. You could slow down on the aging thing – why not just stay eleven for two years?

May 2, 2012

Catching Up

Yes, I’m still alive.

It was just an over-nighter at the house but we managed to get in a quick afternoon trip to Shenandoah National Park .

Papa makes his move in the high stakes game of real estate dominance.

Back at the house, we spent the evening playing games and watching old episodes of “Ren and Stimpy” and “Mystery Science Theater 3000”. Seth got Dave and Andy caught up in a high stakes game of Monopoly while Caleb introduced me to the nuances of Pass the Pig.

The next morning Seth wanted to go for a walk down to the pond. In the past I would have insisted that someone else go with him but since he’ll turn 11 next week, I made the faith leap to just let him go by himself. Letting go seems more difficult this time. I’d have let Andy go that far when he was younger than that and I know my range of exploration at age 11 was considerably larger than the 500 yard distance to the pond. For some reason, each generation just seems a little younger and more vulnerable than the last. My next big event in my “quiet” time was that I finally painted my bedroom! Dave was gone on a three day Cursillo retreat so I seized the opportunity to get ‘er done. My plan was to paint half the room each day but once I got going, with Andy’s brawn to move the heavy furnishings, I finished in just one day. My hours in the gym with Lorenzo prodding me along are paying off; my stamina has increased and I had few aches the next day. When Dave came home Sunday evening he began to sneeze – a lot. There has been so much pollen in the air, it was difficult to determine cold or allergy at first. It was a cold and I got it too. So, I spent the next couple of days hunkered down on the couch watching Netflix and dozing. By the weekend I was feeling better. Monday morning,. when it was time to go meet Lorenzo again, I was worried. I felt crappy and began to worry that I wasn’t up for the new intense cardio sessions we’d started. It was too late to cancel, so I decided to drag myself in and see how at least a warm-up would make me feel. I started slowly. My legs felt very heavy. After ten minutes on the elliptical, I grabbed a mat and elastic band to stretch. When Lorenzo came in, I told him I would try my best to get through the session, but had no guarantees. He took me to the treadmill and we got started. With my hands gripped onto the bar for dear life, I walked, trotted and began to jog as Lorenzo worked the controls. He never said how long I would be running but after six minutes, he said, “I think we’ll shoot for ten minutes.” Last week he’d had me running in circles for ten minutes over various obstacle courses of gym steps and ladder ropes so the duration was a length of time I was mentally prepared for. In comparison, jogging on the treadmill was a piece of cake. After the treadmill, Lorenzo led me through the rest of my workout. With a good sweat going, I felt so much better than when I arrived. When I’d completed my workout, he smiled and told me I’d done a good job. It’s amazing what that man can get me to do just to see his smile and hear those words! When I got home I was a dynamo! I cleaned up, went off to meet with a friend, came home, baked a pie, cleaned the kitchen floor and began supper. I never even really sat down to relax until after the dishes were done. Incredible. Yesterday I met with my new doctor for my annual physical. She was over the top with the blood work I’d had done last week. Except for slightly elevated triglycerides and a minor Vitamin D deficiency, I am the poster Nana of good health. So, that is some of what I’ve been up to. Thanks for worrying about me…..

April 16, 2012

Does the Bear Poop In The Woods?

Last week a small band of hearty Virginians, in the spirit and tradition of other great explorers like Lewis and Clark, piled into a Honda Odyssey minivan in search of adventure. After taking on provisions at McDonald’s, the group headed west on US 33 bound for the Skyline Drive.

The day was clear but cool in the Piedmont and the road dry. An air of uneasiness filled the back seats as the minivan climbed the curving mountainside and ears began to pop. “How high are we going?” one anxious explorer asked, “I’m afraid of heights.”

Upon reaching the park entrance, a friendly ranger greeted them and provided some suggestions and good hiking trails. Thanking him for his kindness, the van headed north in search of clear trails and a bolder or two to climb on.

Impressed by the expansive vistas, the explorers remarked to each other about the beauty of it all. One of the boys, the youngest of the group, was still fearful of the elevation until his trusted older companion explained he was looking down, he was looking across. After mulling on that for a moment he exclaimed, “I’ve overcome my fears!” to which the older members of the expedition quietly chuckled.

As they drove up the trail, one of the leaders of the group noticed that the temperature was dropping. “It’s 35!” she exclaimed. They knew it would be cooler on the the mountaintop and had brought along extra sweatshirts and jackets but this was a bit colder than expected. “Is that snow?” asked the driver.

“It’s not snow.” declared a veteran explorer from the back seat. “It’s probably just pollen.”

“It looks like snow.” the driver asserted, not giving an inch.

Seth Skyline Drive 4 2012 comp

Soon, a camping area appeared on the right. The boys were antsy from riding and in need of stretching their legs so they pulled over for a short while to look around. It was a quaint camping area dotted with rustic duplex cabins. It was very cold; much colder than they had expected. The extra sweatshirts provided little protection from the strong wind and blowing snow. The decision was made to cut this walk short so they all piled back into the warm van to see what other adventures were in store for them. As they drove further north, there was no denying that the white bits floating into the windshield were indeed snowflakes and not pollen. The temperature began to drop below freezing and fearing for icy roads and poor visibility, the decision was made to turn around and head south. The road into the icy north..

Heading south of the park entrance at Swifts Run Gap, the weather improved. The sun shined warmly on the road and the temperature shot into the high 40’s. Finding a promising spot to pull over, the group again piled out of the van and this time headed into the back country in search of adventure.

Unfortunately, not long after hitting the trail, one of the boys tripped and fell hitting his knee on a large rock. After taking a moment to assess the extent of his injury, he took a deep breath and let out a blood curdling scream that was sure to protect the group from any and all wildlife that may have been lurking in the woods. Once he was steady on his feet, the explorers decided to return to the van and drive on to a less rocky .

The second back country path was a steep climb up a mountainside. Having survived the snow of the north and the dangers of the rocky path, the seasoned hikers climber higher and higher up the twisting trail all the while noting the signs of the wildlife along the way. There were several piles of skat* (poop) and trees that looked as though they’d been used as scratching posts with tufts of black fur nearby. The leaders of the group grew worried that they were wondering into dangerous bear territory and called a halt to the hike just before reaching a pile of boulders. Again, the hearty troop headed back to the minivan.

*Although previously thought to be bear skat, further research on the Internet revealed that it was coyote skat which, according to the experts, is often found on trails marking territory. So while indeed bears do poop in the woods, it was not bear poop observed on this trip.

April 11, 2012

Frequent Flyer

Last night, about an hour and a half past our regular bedtime, we picked Andy up at the Charlottesville Airport – CHO. He was returning from a job interview at the University of Southern Mississippi, an opportunity to become an assistant professor – a tenured position. He looked tired but happy to be home as he walked through the gate in his tan silk sports coat, his tie loosened. We were happy to see him (although we all hope he will be hired and move out in the near future.)

Planes and schools seem to be a recurring theme in Andy’s life. When he was just a couple of months old, I flew with both he and Maggie to spend the Christmas holidays in Syracuse with my folks while Dave was deployed. They both flew for free if they sat on a lap so I flew my Mom down to fly back with us. The flight up was uneventful but coming back we were challenged by both bad weather delays and the slipperiness of the kids’ nylon snowsuits that seemed to slide down our bodies when we tried to plop them on a hip.

Our next flight together was when we flew as a family out to Hawaii – twenty years ago this summer. That flight was loooonnnnggggg. While stationed on Oahu, we took at least one family vacation to a neighboring island each year. They were short hops on prop planes that took us to tiny airports. The smallest of these was on Moloka’i, where a tractor towed our luggage from the plane on a cart and our bags were set on a wooden table for pick-up in an open aired pole barn. When our three years were over, we flew back to the mainland – a much longer flight than the first because we were leaving a place we loved deeply.

Andy’s next flight was to Duke for an interview for the University Scholars program. He left was some anxiety but I’ll never forget his triumphant return; smiling from ear to ear with a Blue Devils ballcap atop his head. “I’m going!” He declared – and he did.

The summer following his junior year at Duke, Andy grabbed at the opportunity to study in London. Instead of departing from the Norfolk Airport, we had to take him up to Dulles. Even though he was twenty, it was still difficult for me to drop him off at such an enourmous airport and just drive off in those early days of post 911. He was so excited, I was the anxious one.

Since then he has taken many flights. As part of his graduate progarm at UC San Diego, he has travelled all over the country, presenting papers and attending conferences. So much so that as I was fussing with him as he prepared for this trip to Mississippi, he finally reminded me that he has had much more experience in air travel than I have and I should “stop mothering” him. Point taken, I backed off, but as all mothers know, there is just no going back on the mothering bit, we can only throttle it back a bit.

So now he’s back. He thought the trip went well and seems to be contented to just wait. While he was away he also learned that UCSD has a teaching job for him in the fall semester so if nothing else comes up, he’ll at least be employed again.

Where ever he ends up, he will always be the baby in my arms on the plane , the young boy I kept entertained on long trans Pacific flights and the young man I’ve sent off into the world. In my mind’s eye, he’ll always be my Andy, with his name pinned on his shirt, as I sent him off for his first day of kindergarten, my son.

April 4, 2012

Babe in Arms

Yesterday afternoon at choir practice (yes, I went to choir practice) I had the pleasure of holding a four week old baby girl while her grandmother played the keyboard.

When I arrived, she was sitting in her car seat, sort of awake and a little fussy. It was pretty warm in the church and she was dressed in a terry sleeper and covered with a receiving blanket. My first thought was that she was uncomfortable in her seat so I uncovered her and began to rock her seat.

That worked for a while until she began to wiggle and really fuss so I seized the opportunity – carpe diem – and picked her up. After all, we couldn’t have her disturbing her grandmother while she was accompanying the choir in Triduum and Easter music prep now could we?

I admit I am a known baby lover. If there is an infant anywhere near me, my attention will hone in like radar. I love talking to them and watching their tiny faces scrunch in thoughtful contemplation of my voice. They are great listeners – when they are not crying.

This baby, Lydia, was special. The shape of her face and the mop of dark hair reminded me so much of Maggie when she was that age. At four weeks her body had not yet full unfolded, with her knees tucked in semi fetal position. She was a solid child, with good muscle control. I felt such peace as I rocked her, looking into her little face and watching her designer print NUK move up and down and she worked it. I could have held the dozing baby in my arms indefinitely.

After about half and hour or so her mother arrived. I dutifully handed her over and gave a full report of why I had her since she didn’t know me. Once in her mother’s arms, she stirred slowly and lazily opened her eyes. Her mother cooed and recognizing the voice, Lydia cooed back in a special intimate way. I’d forgotten that detail from my own babies’ lives; how they would react with special sounds reserved only for me when I’d pick them up.

I thanked Lydia’s mommy for letting me spend the time with her. It was so special to revisit my own days of early motherhood. Those days were precious even with the sleep deprivation and piles of laundry. I’m not saying I’d care to go back, or God forbid raise another child, but to just have the chance to feel the familiar bundle in my arms and see the face of a sleeping infant was a treasure I’ll not soon forget.

April 3, 2012

Living Green

This first spring in our new home has been a busy one. Dave and I have begun the work of transforming our yard into our own personal paradise. Whenever we have a few moment and the weather cooperates, we’re in the back, diggin up sod, shifting rocks, weeding and dreaming of our finished garden.

We’ve done this before. When we moved into our last house in 2005, our back yard was boring. The previous owners had four small children and two dogs. Gardening was not high on their priority list.

We had a shady patch of grass with a couple of mature trees, all surrounded by a cedar fence. As always, Dave had a vision and in five short years, with hours of labor and sweat, we had transformed our bland patch of green into a beautiful garden with plenty of color and life.

This time of year especially, I’d love to take my morning coffee out into the yard and make my rounds from bed to bed, looking for the daily changes. One morning there would be a new shoot of green popping up through the mulch; the next day I’d find a new bud or even flower. Our garden was exciting and energizing. It is the one thing I really miss about my old house.

Our new yard is not the blank slate our old one was. There is plenty already here.

Almost half of the back is wooded with mature oaks, cedars, maples, pine trees and even a dogwood and carpeted with fallen leaves and acorns. Unlike our flat coastal plain yard in Virginia Beach, here in the Piedmont, our yard has a slope which is both beautiful to behold and challenging to mow. Because of this, we are departing from the goals of former settlers who cleared the land to plant lawns and fields. Instead, we have decided to systematically increase the size of our wooded and natural area to decrease the amount of mowing. I could fib and declare we are doing it to save fossil fuel as a commitment to green living but in reality our goal is to save our own time and energy!

I do love my new yard. It is one of the things I love the most about my new home. I will even love it more once the digging is done and the planting begins. I’m anxious to see the little green shoots popping up from the mulch.

March 27, 2012

Laundry Daze

Last Monday morning I was surrounded by a pile of dirty clothes and bed linens in preparation for weekend guests when I received a text from my friend Sarah.

“I’m at my folks and heading home tomorrow. How about if I stop by for a visit?”

“Hell yah!” I shot back.

“OK, see you tomorrow!”

Sarah is one of my dearest friends. We started working at First Command (then USPA/IRA) within a couple of months of each other back in 1998. While there we graduated our children from high school and college, endured Navy widowhood while our husbands were deployed and shared all the assorted other stuff associated with both office life and home life. Though the years we’ve become comfortable friends, able to go long periods without contact, but picking up and continuing when we are lucky enough to have our paths cross.

Last spring, after I stopped working, Sarah and I were able to spend more time together, exploring knitting shops, grabbing a bite of lunch or just enjoying a cup of coffee on her back deck. We share a love of nature; flora and fauna, wine and knitting, in about that order. I love the sound of her laugh so often poke fun at her to get her going. Since my move, the phone has been our only source of conversation. Just last week I realized I hadn’t spoken to her since before the holidays.

Addressing my pile of laundry became more urgent. Vacuuming and dusting we also added to the “to do” list along with the bathrooms. A week’s worth of housework had to be condensed down to one day. I hit the gas and got moving. Then the phone rang….

It was my friend Kim. We met on the way home after dropping our kids off for their first day of school at Mililani Waena in Hawaii. Our husbands’ military tours on Oahu overlapped almost completely giving us three years to pal around and explore together. Andy and her oldest son Josh became friends and our families both attended St. John the Apostle and Evangelist RC church. Kim invited me to join her on several Marine Corps OWC outings which were all great fun. At the end of our tours, they were off to Okinawa and we headed to the DC area.

About six years later, we were settled in Virginia Beach, when Kim’s husband Jeff received orders to Norfolk. Those years were choked with work, teen drama and heavy church commitments so we mostly saw each other at church or at the odd lunch to catch up. After a couple of years, Jeff received orders again and they were gone.

We reconnected several years later when we had a trip planned to Fredericksburg to attend a wedding reception. As it turned out, the bride’s parents lived on the same street as Kim and Jeff. I gave her a call to see if we could get together at some point during the weekend and she invited us to spend the weekend with them. Again, they are the kind of friends you can just pick up with where you left off and enjoy.

Back to the phone call…

“I’m catching up on my Christmas card calls.” she said, “You probably think I’m horrible for not sending you one after you send me one.”

“Did I send you one?” I asked, “I was so confused when my cards went out I couldn’t remember who I sent them to.”

“Since we live so close, we should get together again, maybe meet somewhere half way for lunch….”

Half an hour later, having caught up on the highlights of the past couple years, I hung up with the promise that we would indeed get together in the next few weeks for a lunch or maybe even dinner with the guys.

Friendship is such a treasure. I sincerely love that my friends feel free to burst into my life when the notion suits them, like the sun bursting through the clouds after a cloudy day. The laundry and dust will always be with me, while the time I am gifted to spend with my friends will not.

Speaking of laundry, I have to switch loads. I hope the phone rings!

March 19, 2012

The Mystery of the Ticking Sink

A mystery was solved this weekend. Almost since moving in I have occasionally heard a muffled ticking or dripping sound near the kitchen sink. The sound has been measured, like the ever present ticking of our LaniMoo clock prompting me to use my elementary skills of the scientific method to discover the source of the sound.

Since the location was close to the sink, my first thought was a slow drain. I tried running hot tap water down both drains, running the garbage disposal and for good measure dumped half a bottle of Liquid Plumber down the drain. The dripping sound continued.

I checked under the sink for leaks with my little mag-lite in hand, feeling much like CSI Monica looking for clues or leaks in my plumbing. The cabinet was dry and quiet, no ticking there.

Remembering that the dripping from a clogged downspout at our old house sometimes made a similar “drip/tick” sound, I went outside to investigate. There were no downspouts outside the window by the sink. No ticking out there either.

Weeks went by and I became aware that I only seemed to hear the tick/drip in the late afternoon when I went into the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. There seemed to be no reason for the afternoon specific noise. Having found no compelling disaster related cause, I did what any sane homeowner would do; I ignored it.

This past Saturday afternoon, when I went out to the kitchen to make some tea, the tick/drip again caught my attention. I decided to give investigation one more shot. Putting my good ear in the direction of the sound, I attempted to isolate its exact location. The rhythm was so very precise, like a clock or metronome. Again, the sink seemed to be the source, but when I bent down to check underneath, the sound grew fainter. No, it was the sink. I listened more intently. The sound was from the sink but not the drain. What could it be? Then I looked up and saw her smiling at me.

SAMSUNG

It was Queen Elizabeth II, regally perched on my window sill, purse on her elbow, her right hand in a perpetual royal wave. She was a gift from my friend Carol to commemorate our trip to the UK in 2010. Not only does she appear to wave, but a tiny solar panel on the top of her purse powers an internal clockwork causing her to wave when the sun hits it just right. Further investigation revealed that her hand had become detached from the clockwork so when the sun hit her purse, her movements sprang into precise motion, but her hand remained still. The mystery of the tick/drip sound by the sink has been solved. The Queen’s dislocated hand has been reset and now instead of dreading sunny afternoons and the annoying ticking, we can look forward to her regal wave.

Isn’t it amazing how something so frustrating can turn into a funny little story and a chuckle? We are so amused!

March 8, 2012

Reblooming

Remember my Amaryllis that bloomed in early in January? When its blooms began to droop, I stuck in in the corner to allow the plant to die back. When the time was right, my plan was to plant it in the yard.

When I got back from Florida a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that the little sprout you can see down by the base of the bulb had grown into a stalk taller than the first, full of buds.

This week, three months later, it has begun to bloom in a splendor that overshadows the first flower which is still there, withered and dry.

As I begin the journey into myself to discover my Life-Keys, I wonder if my second blooming will be brighter than my first.

Some days I feel withered and dry, waiting for the next me to emerge and bloom.

These things, I’m learning, happen when I least expect them. There needs to be quiet time, as if set in a corner to rest.

Since moving here I’ve been in the corner for seven months. I’m ready for new possibilities.

March 7, 2012

A Day of Journeying

This morning as I was drinking my coffee, listening to Into the Woods, my thoughts drifting along with the music, I realized yesterday was a day of journeys for me, highlighted by where I’ve been, where I am and where I’m going. How is it that a day can be so randomly constructed?

Where I’ve Been… Journal Journeying – After months of putting it off, I finally cracked open the journal I kept during our trip to the UK in 2010 to do what I’ve been saying I would do for more than a year – transcribe the data and capture images from the Internet to replace the photos we didn’t get to take after our camera broke. I only got through the first two days and already have four typed pages with photos added. My plan was to get the whole thing transcribed and give it to Dave as a gift. I’m finding my fatigue played a big part in my writing ability on the road, so editing is needed but the rough story is there and I’m enjoying the look back and searching for pictures on the web.

Where I am….Content to Be… I went on an errand run all myself. This was special because I get so little alone time since Andy moved back in. While he’s not intentionally intrusive or disrespectful of my space, he’s just here. I guess I’ve become accustomed to having the house to myself during the day. And, since he’s always up for an adventure, it’s been easy to get him to come along when I go somewhere, so I don’t have tobe alone. My concern has been that I will become dependent on the company and fall back into old habits that make me fearful of venturing out the door by myself. So, I made a short trip to the Mall, stopped by Lowe’s for paint samples and then popped into Kroger for some groceries. It was as exciting as a trip to the UK, but it was important in maintaining my independence.

Where I’m going….on to the Unknown Known…..Early in quiet of the morning I made the first steps into a self-assessment program called “Life-Keys”. With my friend Deb leading me, this journey will be to help me sort out what I can do from what I love to do, to discern my God given gifts which give me energy from the skills I’ve learned that drain me. At the end fo this journey I’m hoping to have a better sense of direction so I can choose what I want to do with the rest of my life opposed to just reacting to what comes my way.

So, is it just a coincidence that I’ve connected these three journeys from one day or am I like the fellow in “A Beautiful Mind”, finding meaning in totally unrelated events? I’d like to think there is a plan. In the next few weeks I hope to make more connections, finding the key pieces to the puzzle that is me.