Twelve Pages

   Every year, when I take down my calendar and put up the new one, I like to take a few minutes to peruse the last twelve pages of the calendar. I flip through January and see visits with sledding and snowman building. The visits with sweet friends in February leads up to the beginning of spring fever and March seed picking. April sees the beginning of the local garden centers being restocked, the smell of dirt starts to come back as the ground starts to thaw. May shows a trip back home to Ohio and Kentucky, with little smiley faces leading up to the date I needed to leave. Birthdays in May and then birthdays in June, days of cake and cards with plans to celebrate. July celebrations of patriotic independence and summer days, complete with sunshine and sun block. August leads to school starting, school supply sales and the feel of autumn as a hint to be. September finds me counting down anxiously for an October trip to Florida. November and Thanksgiving fly by as Christmas is coming. I love looking back at the year and as I see dates marked out on my calendar of events, lunch plans, trips, birthdays, doctor and dentist appointments, I remember many different moments of the year.

   It is only then that I am ready to really close out that calendar, say good bye to 2010 and welcome 2011.

Is it Possible?

Is it possible to love our enemies? Is it something we can do? Even with God’s help, can we really make a change in our natural inclinations to seek revenge? There was a book I read not too long ago which brought out that question, is it possible? I know that God told us to love our enemies. It didn’t say pretend they aren’t our enemies or act like’s all okay. But, love our enemies. The question comes back – is it possible?
The book I’m referring to, Tea with Hezbollah was focused as the title indicates on the Middle East. However, on a recent trip back home to Kentucky I was reminded of a different instance of this which gives me hope. There is a park next to a reservoir, the water is beautiful, surrounded by cliffs, trees, and is a favorite boating spot. The park looks out over the docks, the activity on the lake from picnic tables under pavilions. A few years ago, driving down the road, passing the entrance to the park I saw a sign which startled me. A small yard sign had been posted with an arrow, Hatfield and McCoy dinner. The Hatfield’s and McCoy’s were two families that were feuding for quite some time. There were people killed on both sides, people who were fearful on both sides. Revenge, hate, and fear were nurtured for far too long. No, it’s not at the scale or the length of time which the factions in the Middle East are facing. But, there were generations involved in this fight.
I had a chance to talk to someone about that, she was in a family on one side of that fight and grew up learning watchfulness. Her father made a choice to not bring the feud into his generation if he could help it. Eventually, there was a tentative peace for this family. Then, there is a time where these people gather together to eat, visit, and have children playing together. There was healing going on that day. It makes me think that it is possible.

Re-Entry

Yesterday, I traded my tennis shoes for black heels, kaki cargo shorts for grey slacks, and a tank top for a blouse and jacket. Hair done, make-up done, heading out the door and to work. I could be in Kentucky! I found myself stating that several times throughout the day, mainly to myself and the computer. Well, more at the senders of whatever e-mail I was reading at the time. Really, I’m glad to be back. It is good to see my dad, pet the dogs, hug my bed, and soak in the bathtub. The fox was out yesterday morning and I loved watching her eat the sunflower seeds.

There is a little re-entry transition though. I need a little extra sleep, keep giving the doggies hugs, and have plants to plant. There are bills to pay and mail to read, laundry to fold and dishes to do. I could be in Kentucky! Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to readjust.

Kitchen Sink, Rain-X, Closed Exits, and Arrival

Yesterday was the day we traveled to Ohio. This has become a sort of girl’s ritual for my mom and me, traveling from Iowa to Ohio, Ohio to Kentucky, and then back on to Iowa. I worked half the day, came home and traded my skirt, blouse, and heels for a tank top, shorts, and a pony-tail. It was such a hot day that I found myself slipping to the bathroom, where the door had been shut, for a few moments here and there. It would act like a quick reverse sauna, cooling rather than heating, when I was feeling like it was cooking outside, like I was cooking outside. I came home from work around twelve, and found the van pretty much packed and meatloaf on the counter for a quick sandwich… way to go mom! Grabbing the bread and meatloaf, the messy though tasty concoction was wrapped in a paper towel and the last minute to do’s were worked down. After about an hour of grabbing a bit of sandwich here and there, warning one of the dogs away from snitching it, and finishing packing; it was declared, “We can leave now, and I think I packed the kitchen sink.” I’m not sure why the kitchen sink is always the home tool that is used, but in this case it seemed appropriate.



With the van packed, CD’s appropriately playing, and sunglasses donned, we headed out of the driveway and Eastward. It wasn’t too far out until we started talking. One of the beauties of this arrangement is that it gives us time to talk and catch up. Starting off with how the day was, I heard about the rain-x that had gone onto the car in-case of rain. I didn’t give it much thought until the lightning caught my eye to the left of me, way out in the distance, and then to the right. Pretty soon great big drops started falling. I will gladly admit that the rain-x did its job beautifully. The rain was whisked away. I wondered about that rain, those great big drops fell fast and hard for a while, with wind blowing and making the trees on the sides of the roads sway. The rain, the wind, the lightning, they can all feel pretty much like a great big metaphor for life sometimes. Things will, people will batter and bruise us, sometimes with actions, but even more with attitudes, words, and omissions of the kind word. Wouldn’t it be great if we had some sort of a Rain-X Human that we could use? The ad could read, “One spritz and your troubles will roll right off.” I know it doesn’t work that way, but what about the protection that we can receive under God, “refuge in the shadow of your wings,” (Psalms 36:7b). A refuge is given because God knows that at times we are pelted by rain and wind, maybe even struck with lightning, deafened by thunder, or bruised by hale. We need a refuge where we are safe, one that is even better than a Rain-X for Homo sapiens.


Driving out of the rain, we continued on, changing drivers every now and then. Of course the shoes were off and the van dual climate controls were in full use. I was being frozen alive and would have arrived either in all of my clothing at one time, or a solid Popsicle. But we had fun, and then pulling out the map (thanks for the binder Dad!); to go around Indianapolis, we discovered that our exit was closed. Well, we decided to just keep going and make the other loop. Thankfully traffic wasn’t heavy and it was still a way around town that worked just fine. The thing about closed exits is that they are generally closed for a reason. I wondered what kind of work was being done on this one. Road repair? Bridge repair? The signs over the highways were encouraging carpooling and I had an image pop in my head of how many well dressed executives could you stuff into the mini cooper in the other lane. It was definitely time to get out and stretch.


We finally arrived, not in record time, but safe and sound. Welcomed graciously into my aunt and uncle’s home, with accompanying tail wagging by the dogs and sidelong mildly curious glances by the cat, we collapsed and slept. It’s good to be here, even though I am sure that the kitchen sink is still somewhere jammed under a seat in the van.

Can’t I Pack the Kitchen Sink Too?

Yesterdat was the day to finish all the preparation for the trip before the trip actually begins. That wouldn’t be too bad if coming home from work, I had actually the bags upstairs and had things in them. I did however, have a list of what needs packed. I love lists, actually I love crossing things off lists. As the to do’s get shifted into the all done it is a happy thing.

      But, I digress…
I am leaving for the better part of a week, heading home to Ohio and Kentucky. Ohio is where I was born and where the majority of my family lives. Kentucky is the family home. I know I have never lived in that part of Kentucky, but somehow that mineral rich soil has soaked into our blood stream and made it home. There are reunions planned, visits with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Cleaning off the head stones from last year and putting on new flowers for this year, the children will be brought into the process as this helps them learn to remember their ancestors and history. So, what do I take on such a trip jumping from suburbia to the beautiful foot hills? Well clothes, toothpaste, shampoo, and socks of course. And lotion, my camera, bug spray, and make up as well. But, there are other things that get packed – a shovel and trash bags to sit plants in and bring home. Music for the van is an absolute necessity, but it requires forethought. Not only does something for the road demand energy, but when we pull around the bend and watch the foothills appear – that is when the correct music must be available, something delicate and yet strong.
There are some other things that get packed, stories of the past, memories, hopes for renewal during family times, and time to just stroll around grandma’s yard breathing deeply of the pines and snowball bushes. So much is going to be stuffed into that van, surely the kitchen sink will be in there somewhere as well.

There are friends and then there are KY Friends

There was a forward going around recently about friends and Kentucky Friends. Basically, it compared friends that cared and Kentucky friends who did more than care, they loved and befriended. I am blessed to have some Kentucky friends. Some of them in my life are from Kentucky (I know – shocking), others are from Ohio, Florida, Iowa, and a myriad of other places.

What makes up a KY friend? It is more than just knowing that your friend is there and showing up occasionally. It is dropping everything, creating a meal, staying up all night, sending twelve texts, plotting with, working with, holding your tongue, sharing your thoughts, and most of all it is being there. The act of just being there – when your heart is broken, when you are dancing in the rain, when your ankle is sprained, when you are on top of the world, when you fall apart at work, when you get a promotion, when the tornado comes ripping through, or when you just are your normal daily self. It isn’t an enchanting friendship, but it’s the webbed strand that holds it all together and still allows for growth, like a hummingbirds nest.

A couple of years ago a tornado really did go through our yard. I came home from a high school reunion in Florida and the world which greeted me upon my return to Iowa had literally been ripped up and tossed about. With my jaw dropped into my shoes, it took only moments for me to be overwhelmed and grateful. Overwhelmed because the trees that were shading the yard were now sprawled across the ground and waiting for the chain saw. Grateful because trees were not on top of the house or through any windows and most importantly no one was hurt.

Many people came to help in the days to follow. Some came and helped with chain saws, others moved wood and helped split it, stacking, piling, clean up – many hands came. Each of these individuals made a difference. One group in particular really made an impact on me. A small caravan from Ohio came with friends and friends of friends. They arrived in the mid-night hour and crashed throughout the house on couches, air mattresses, and the floor. The next morning, after a brief tour to the Mississippi River, they headed out into the yard and worked for hours. It was incredible, they drove eight hours and worked so hard. That evening, over an enormous pot of spaghetti I found myself laughing and was reminded with each bite of the tomato and pasta of the comfort of not the carbs, but the friendship. The next morning, they returned back home and to their respective jobs. I’m not even sure I can describe how overwhelmed I was. When Paul writes about the blessing of praying for his people – I felt that in a new way, I saw it first hand those days. And in the midst of a tornado clean up and an ever growing Strega Nona spaghetti pot, I laughed and laughed, and was so encouraged.

I want to be a KY friend.