Stuff

Night before last night, after I'd posted the curious funeral post, middle daughter asked if she could bake a chocolate cake.  Just needed to do something grounding, which I totally understood.  And, yes, it was ten o'clock at night, but it was cake.  Who could stand in the way of that?  This past week has been so out-of-the-ordinary that we've all yearned for the mundane and homey things that settle us.  Even oldest daughter said the other night that while she was in her room, she was enjoying listening to the rest of the family talk and rustle around.  Safe things to think about and do---so critical to our well-being.  And it's interesting to me---we naturally gravitate to things that make us feel safe---could be a meal that's comforting, re-reading a book, or sitting outside and just enjoying the quiet.  Whatever slows us down and calms us.

The kids have been watching me too, knowing I tend to have migraines when I'm stressed.  Truly, you hear about 2 folks you know dying within a week of one another and it gives you pause.  Big pause.

Chillin' tonight because tomorrow second son is preaching at an inner city church he's involved in.  Grilling chef by night---occasional preacher man on Sundays.  He told me the funniest thing when he came that time to the Anglican church for middle daughter's first Sunday as an acolyte.  I asked how he liked it and he said it made him wish he was the one behind the pulpit.  Not that he'd ever go for such a high church setting, but the pastor part appealed to him.

Anyway, it'll be interesting to hear him tomorrow morning.  He really is breaking the mold being that the church he's a member of is totally black and in a very poor neighborhood.  So different from what's he's used to, and the thing is, he's there because he believes he can make a difference, race not an issue.  And it seems they love him there too.  Can't ask for better than that.  And on a silly note, he grinned at me when he invited us and said he gets sorta worked up when he preaches.  Way to go, Jacob.

Time to stop

Let's just say that this was a very full and also a very odd day.  This morning looked at an apartment with Gary and second son for him to possibly rent when there's an opening.  Took 4th son to the dental school, which took 3-1/2 hours.  Was briefly at home before having to leave for the funeral of our friend who died on Sunday.

P.U.

And let me say that I sometimes feel I've heard just about everything.  Huh.  Joke's definitely on me.  They were playing rock music at the funeral home during the visitation, and actually with the way we generally dress, Gary and I fitted in really well with the other jean-clad, braided hair, Gary wearing jeans---me having a braid. ;)  Sort of the groovy crowd.

Anyway, I digress.  This was one unusual funeral, and I'm not making fun.  It was just different.  No hymns, but Elvis and Joni Mitchell, which is fine, just a bit out of the ordinary.  We read the 23rd Psalm together, surprising me considering their desire to not have a religious service.  Well, the dynamics changed when the hired preacher talked about our neighbor like he was filling in the blanks.  He literally went on and on, obviously not knowing James, but to give him credit, was likely doing his best considering the strange circumstances.

He kept going for a bit, then James' sister stood up and told him to stop.  Almost hollered.  Stood there and told the preacher, (if he was a preacher---most likely just the guy at the funeral home who leads the services when there's nobody else to do it) to be quiet.  "Yes ma'am," he says to her and sits right down.

Silence.  Deep silence.  Then they begin the Joni Mitchell version of 'Amazing Grace.'  No prayer, just the end.  We left, not wanting to hear anyone rehash the shambles this service was, and were so relieved to get home.

The. Oddest. Funeral. Ever.  One of our sons said that in hearing us talk about it, he was reminded of the hired preachers that would give an off-the-cuff speech over a gunfighter in a western movie.  Exactly.  All I could think of while we were there was a running phrase of 'make it stop' going through my head.

The End.

Here we go again...

Well, nuts.  I mean, really.  Nuts.  We got a call at noon-time from neighbor across the street about her brother (also a neighbor) who had died on Sunday.  I told Gary considering the news we've gotten about deaths lately, I could take up cussing.  But won't.  Wouldn't do any good, and just end up making me feel bad.

The thing is, this most recent death is someone who's rejected the Lord.  He just wouldn't have anything to do with Him.  One of our boys, who used to cut this friend's grass, spent several afternoons on his front porch, sharing the Gospel with him.  He'd listen, but always was able to reason his way out of making a commitment.  And today, his sister talked about the service he would have and that since they, neither one, believed in hell, that that topic wouldn't come up at the funeral (which will be later on in the week).

Well, okay.  Doesn't make the reality go away, though, does it?

And even the elderly neighbor who passed away on New Years would slip out of conversations that had anything to do with Christ.  Two of our boys had shared with him, trying to find out where his heart was in regards to the Lord. The pastor at his service said this man was a 'Christian of the Lutheran persuasion.'  His exact words.  Then the pastor (being, I believe a Baptist minister) gave a winning sermon on salvation for the eulogy.  Still don't know if that neighbor was a believer in the Lord or not, but the pastor sure was.

It's a shame when we minimize the importance of a relationship with Jesus Christ.  When being 'good enough' is supposed to be our ticket into heaven, and saying the word ticket isn't supposed to minimize it, either.

I even get a bit riled at the Anglican church when they say salvation takes place at infant baptism.  Don't get me started.  It's a relationship.  A gift.  And one that requires participation.  Nuts.

The Twelfth Day of Christmas

Resting in bed now.  Turns out 3 our kids were able to go to our neighbor's funeral this morning.  Second son showed up just as they were beginning, and it was sweet to see him afterward.  But the children are taking it hard.  I'll glance at certain of them and see the pain in their eyes.  They've not lost someone close to their hearts in awhile, and it's a bit of a shock.

And sort of on the same topic---as I was thinking of the weekend's dinners last night, I kept coming back to nursery food.  Meals that make a person feel loved.  So, on the way back from the service, I got makings for pigs in a blanket---which oddly enough, I've never made, but always have wanted to. Let's just say that it's not something I grew up eating, but have always liked the way it sounds.  Cozy.  That and boxed mac and cheese (which the least one thinks is fabulous) is what's for dinner.  Easy and hot, requiring a minimum of thought.  Perfect.

Now will tuck up and read.  Nothing's pressing, and there's nowhere to go. Oldest son is still in Toronto, oldest daughter is going out with sweet Indian boyfriend in a bit, 2 boys are at work, Gary's at his shop and the rest of our brood are here.  It's overcast and a perfect day for a nap, or simply to turn off my brain.  Will do.

Oh, and tomorrow we celebrate Epiphany at church.  Should be a sweet service---looking forward to it.

(photo apropos of nothing---just pretty patterns, and, yes, they are slightly off kilter)

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas

Have felt like I've been in a mental fog for such a very long time.  Months and months.  It's a hard feeling to shake, and nothing I do has seemed to make a difference.  Time is the cure, I guess.  That and leaving my frets aside.  Good luck with that, eh?

Anyway, I finished up a book last night---not quite sure what to make of it. There's an introduction by Susan Hill, who've I've read before, and she says she's read The Rector's Daughter (the one I'm referring to) dozens of times. Can't say as I've ever read any book that repeatedly; maybe have finished The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burdett more than any other, but dozens of times?  No. Regardless of how I feel about this book---mixed emotions most likely, there are several quotes I marked and this one really hits the spot. Hoping it'll be a reality sooner than later.

"She began to feel again.  She remembered the moment that she could say after all life was not over.  It was when she heard the small piping song a robin was making to himself, different from the loud chirp with which he greeted his human friends, realizing how deaf and stupid they were.  She had heard it and enjoyed it hundreds of times.  Now it spoke to her with inexpressible consolation.  Another day it was the lovely silvery clouds reposing with  majestic tranquility in the winter sky.  It seemed as if Nature drew near Mary in her need."~from The Rector's Daughter by F. M. Mayor

Today's this and that

Out and about today.  Took fourth son to a job interview (which he was accepted for). Got several Robert Farrar Capon's books at the library (while he was being interviewed), including The Supper of the Lamb, which I've already read.  Others include Kate Morton's The Secret Keeper (always enjoy her books), two by Patrick Taylor in his Irish series.  Some others as well for comfort.  I figure with a funeral to go to on Saturday morning, I'll be smart to chill when I can.  Plus our oldest son flies to Toronto to visit friends tomorrow, so there's enough to think about.  Add to that 4th son's new job that begins on Monday that'll require toting to and fro.  It's busy around these parts!

I'm realizing anew all the time that as a parent, it really isn't ever about me. Once the kids get up and about, life is about helping them with their business and growing up.  I feel like the mirror that reflects back at them, if that even makes any sense.

Anyway.

After dinner, oldest daughter and I went to the grocery store to buy chocolate chips and makings for chicken pie tomorrow.  I made cookies tonight after we got back partly to warm the kitchen and also just because they make me happy. Again, comfort food.  Anything to bring a mental hug is welcome these days.

Looking forward to hopefully staying in tomorrow.  The kids and I will have art day and that's always a treat.  A quiet home day sounds wonderful.

Passing through

Got a text message just before 6am this morning.  It was the daughter of our older neighbor who's had continual health problems this past year or so.  He'd passed away at around 4am and she was letting everyone know.  And oddly enough, he's been in a rehab. hospital sort of place, and they were looking into hiring a nurse to stay with him at his daughter's house.  He was soon to be released.  Timing is so curious.  'Course he was in his nineties, so there was no telling what would happen, and when.  I'm relieved in so many ways, but sad for our kids who'd grown so attached to him.

Two things struck me.  One that she sent a text (which is such an odd way to share sad news), and two that I had no idea if/how I was going to be able to get back to sleep.  It's not like I could share with everyone, since the house still slept.  After about an hour, I was able rest again, so that was all good.

One of our boys, who's been a personal helper to this neighbor while he was still able to stay alone, suggested we tidy up his house in preparation for our neighbor's son to come into town.  He'll likely stay over there.  So we dusted and vacuumed, disinfected and swept leaves from the back steps.  Just made the house seem welcoming.  And one of our other boys is hurting really bad about it, so I got yard bags and tools out over there so he can clean up a bit tomorrow before he leaves for work.  Physical labor helps when the heart hurts.

When there's a death of someone close, I feel purged.  Sort of scoured clean.  I prefer it to not be a surprise, and this wasn't, but still----isn't it still always a bit of a shock?  I think so.  Folks are supposed to live forever (in our small, human minds), and it's always startling when that's not the case.  We get so used to the people who surround us.