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 "Your house is your larger body.

It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night, and it is not dreamless.

Does not your house dream? and dreaming leave the city for grove or hill-top?

Your house shall not be an anchor but a mast.

It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound,

but an eyelid that guards the eye."

Kahlil Gibran

Excerpt from On Houses from The Prophet

It was a hot August day when we arrived at our house in Illinois to help our son, Matt, and his family prepare for their move. The time had come. We needed to pack them up, move them out and sell this house. We hadn't lived here for about eight years.

I walked through the door on crutches after unexpectedly twisting and spraining my ankle a few days before and breaking a bone in my foot. I was in a large bulky boot and wouldn't be much help.

As I looked around the house, boxes,  packing paper, plastic bubble wrap, and tape were strewn all around the house; I felt such dread about what was ahead of us. Life was slowly being sucked out of the place as the last few baby toys were packaged up and boxed. I attempted to keep the baby entertained so the other adults could continue packing. My broken foot was a big nuisance, but most of the packing managed to get done anyway. We ordered carryout for dinner and sent my son's wife and two girls off on a plane the next day. Doug and I returned to Indiana, and Matt and his father-in-law drove a loaded truck to an apartment in New York City. They were about to begin a new adventure, life in the city, and a new full-time job. I felt excitement for them and hopes for their future.

A week later, Doug and I returned to the vacant house. It was quiet and dusty--there had been no time for a move-out clean. Without furniture and the children's happy laughter, it was an empty shell. The rooms echoed when we spoke to each other as we glumly looked at all the things left for us to deal with. Most of it was ours, items we had left when we moved to Indiana, thinking we would return and take care of things. But we never did. Items from Doug's physical therapy practice that he had closed down in 2012, paperwork in boxes from years of tax returns, and patient records lined the walls of the small office in the basement. Boxes. There were boxes everywhere. The entire office was full. Completely. I looked around with dread. How were we going to go through all that? We also had the workroom full of tools and the attic full of whatever. It all seemed like a burden. It was.

We took things slowly, one space at a time, and began to clean and sort. Boxes were opened and out of them flowed a steady stream of memories. We found our children's artwork, pictures we had lovingly hung on walls of our previous homes that had never found a space to be hung here. There were boxes we had never unpacked since our move here in 1995! We found trophies and photos, baseball shoes and bats, tents, dishes, Halloween costumes, books and more books, t-shirts, and collectibles. All the thoughts and emotions of reliving long-ago memories hit me hard. I couldn't believe how emotional I felt. Tears were just below the surface.

Every time I walked up the stairs to the second floor, I could remember moments on those stairs. At the very top of the staircase, the last step would make a creating sound. That sound reminded me of the kids coming home late at night, trying to sneak into the house without me noticing the time. I always opened my eyes and looked at the clock when I heard the "squeak."

I was reminded of Michelle's wedding day as she descended the stairs in her beautiful wedding gown, ready to greet the photographer on her special day. A wonderful memory. I also recalled young Mike setting up his hot wheels tracks on the stairs and shooting cars down them so they would crash into a box strategically placed at the bottom. I sadly recalled the time Mike fell down the stairs one night and was carried off on a stretcher. All the memories were flowing--good and bad.

The white ceramic floors held memories for me too. When we first moved in, I was obsessed with keeping the floors spotless. One afternoon, Matt had some friends over to have a rock concert in the backyard, and I insisted the kids take off their shoes to come in to use the bathroom. I didn't want any grass on my clean kitchen floor. Matt was so upset with me! I remember him telling me, "It's just a floor, Mom!"

Then that same floor became sacred ground when our youngest granddaughter was born unexpectedly In that kitchen. Born in the kitchen, just as her great-grandmother and namesake had in 1926 when the kitchen was the warmest place to be. As I cleaned the floor for the last time and polished it to a beautiful shine, I released my need to have it perfect and said a prayer of gratitude for my granddaughter's life and for the new owners to be able to hire a cleaning lady to take care of that beautiful floor. 

After several weeks of trips to Illinois, we finally removed all of our stuff from the house. (Yes, the attic and garage too!) The house has fresh paint and new carpeting. We've accepted an offer and closing is only a few days away. We're very grateful.

We've said our goodbyes to the physical space that was home for our family for so many years, yet the memories remain.

Kahlil Gibran says your house "shall not be an anchor but a mast." That mast is leading us to the next place that home will be. For us, it's Indiana for now. For Matt and his family, it's NYC. I'm relieved but holding onto the memories, good and bad, and the love that grew in that house. The walls were what contained our lives for a time. It was a symbol for me of HOME.

Sanctuary on the Beach

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he hs called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people...Ephesians 1:18-19

          

         During my early morning walk along the beach this morning I came upon a special spot. From a distance it almost looked like there were “snowballs” hanging from the dead tree branches.  As I got close I entered what seemed to be a kind of outdoor church.  The air flowed through my hair and the sun warmed my back as I stepped closer and into this sanctuary on the beach. Hurricane Irma had uprooted and blown down some trees along the shoreline. The trees were still there, their roots down firmly in the sand, but the branches were bare of leaves, strikingly black against the blue sky. Shells of all shapes and sizes hung from the branches. Many people walking the beach have picked up shells with holes worn through them and have hung them up like Christmas ornaments as they pass by. Each shell, I have been told, is a memorial, a wish or a prayer placed there by someone.  Roots, vines and branches have been added to the scene forming a kind of sacred art. 

The energy there is powerful! Knowing that each shell holds a thought, memory, wish, prayer or hope as it rests on the branch or root of a dead tree evokes the feeling of walking on sacred ground. This is how I felt as I placed a few shells of my own on the branches. I felt a peace that had been eluding me lately.  It felt like worship, hope, love, peace, and acceptance. Somehow the spirit had visited me there. It felt like grace.

The experience on the beach in this special outdoor sanctuary came to my mind as I read the verse from Ephesians. I almost felt as though someone had prayed over me. It seemed that the “eyes of my heart” had been enlightened by the  Holy Spirit. Now I could see things with new eyes of understanding. The heat of the sun and the feel of the breeze were physical reminders that I had been provided with energy and strength to continue to find hope in the “glorious inheritance” of God’s promises.

I pray, God, thank you for coming to me in unlikely ways and for plugging me into your power in my life to “see” and understand my purpose for You on this earth. Thank you for helping me to find holy ground to walk on when I most need you.

Ponder: Have you ever experienced a time when you sensed that you were on holy ground and that the Spirit was enlightening you? If you haven’t, can you begin to become aware of possible moments like these? Perhaps the Spirit will find you. This is my prayer for you.

Beginnings

I’ve taken my grandchildren down to the dock to look for ducks and turtles, but nothing seems to be moving on the water today.  It’s very quiet. Perhaps we’ve scared them off with simply our presence.  This does not bother the kids though.  They have found a few pebbles on the ground and are anxious to toss them into the water.  They love to see them splash and the sound that they make.  I, myself, love to watch the circular rings that form and I snap a picture.  It is a surprisingly unseasonably warm and sunny day.  I begin to think about the start of this New Year, and fresh beginnings.  What is it about this year that brings me to a new beginning?

I have begun to delve into my family history again after a very long break.  I was very involved with it around the year 2005, but or some reason, I compiled all that I had up until that point and then I put it aside for a while. Life happened! There continued to be a longing in me each time I thought about it that there was still much to be known.

Since that time, my own immediate living family has grown by leaps and bounds.  Two of my children have married and brought with them their own extended families.  As of today we have 5 grandchildren ranging in age from 5 months to 8 years.  It is no less than a miracle that this much life has begun and blessed us in such a short span of time.  Life keeps marching forward.

Yesterday, we took 3 of our grandchildren to visit the Eiteljorg Native American museum in downtown Indianapolis.  This is a museum that holds so much information and many artifacts from Native Americans who lived in Indiana and from around the country and the world.  As I was looking at one of the exhibits, I read a quote from a Native American Cherokee descendent,

“Time as a river is a more Euro-American concept of time, with each event happening and passing on like a river flows downstream.

Time as a pond is a more Native American concept of time with everything happening on the same surface, in the same area…and each event is a ripple on the surface.” – Dave Edmunds (Cherokee), professor, 2001

I immediately thought to myself, “Yes, for me, time flows forward like a river…  That’s exactly how I view it!” (A very Euro-American viewpoint!)  Life keeps marching forward, no looking back, lest I turn into a pillar of salt like the wife in the story of Sodom and Gomorrah.  But something stops me here. I know I could be wrong as I begin again to study and search the family history trying to put the pieces together that weave a story of our family. I stop and think, “What if we really do ripple out from each other more like rings on a pond?” What if we don’t look back, but look around us and seek the circular pattern that is made when something strikes the water?

This image haunts me.  Circles all growing one inside of the other, rippling outward to a larger circle, a circle of life. I do find myself waking up at night and thinking about my ancestors being a part of my circle of life today.

As I stare out into the dark night sky, and see the many stars, I recall how God spoke to Abraham saying,

“And I will make thy seed to multiply as the stars of heaven, and will give unto thy seed all these countries; and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed;” –Genesis 26:4

I say a prayer to the God I know…and to the ancestors that can hear me.

“I want to know you! I want to know your stories, your loves, your music, and your faith! I want to KNOW you!  How have your lives influenced me and mine?

Reveal yourselves and your stories to me and I will record them so I and my own family don’t forget!”

And then I start to think about circles, and I envision one small stone dropped in a pond and the circles continuing to grow and spread all around, yet still in the same pond.  The stories of my families are numerous…just like the stars…yet somehow connected.  We are connected through our DNA and through the stories I know and the ones I only imagine. So I take a deep breath and realize that I am just one of the many descendants of Abraham perhaps.  It is a challenge of discovery for me. Where exactly did my circle in the pond begin?

As I study the different websites, I look at a random name of someone who could be a descendant.   I am looking at an unknowable face with a birth date and a date of death. Maybe I know the names of a few of their children and perhaps even more. At the same time, I know there are clues about that person that I am missing.  I so want to know.  I continue to hunt for them like I’m on a mysterious family treasure hunt.

I am hoping that one day it will all start to make sense for me, that I can accept the mystery and the questions that I have to leave unanswered. I must trust that this is the beginning of a marvelous story. It’s only when I realize that I am only at the beginning of this journey that I can actually sleep, trusting that the stories will be revealed to me as my research continues. The story of my families will unfold.

Somehow this circle of life image has struck a larger cord for me as well as I, we, face this New Year, 2017.  There are so many changes that are coming quickly down the river at us like a rapid current.  Our lives will be changed perhaps in ways we don’t want.  This can be from political changes that will undoubtedly happen this year in the coming weeks, or we could be blindsided by any number of different situations…I don’t want to be a “Negative Nelly” about it and I don’t want to look back.  Perhaps I just need to look around at the ripples instead of being washed away like a river.  “Bring it on!” I say to myself as I study my family tree and discover stories of families who continued to survive the concentric rings of life branching outward from Abraham to, me…to us.

Would I have followed my mariner husband across the ocean on a ship similar to the Mayflower to a new world with so many unknowns? Would I have survived the loss of several “Mary’s” as infants and still passed the beloved name on to the next female infant?  How many tears were shed for those babies? Would I have survived the “revolution” of the Revolutionary War? Would I have sworn my loyalty to a newly formed government and been willing to offer up even my life to support them? Would I, or even could I have continued to face life after half of my family died in the Long Crane Indian massacre? (Even as I think about how horrible it must have been, in looking at the history of how “we” (White settlers) took so much away from the Native Americans. Somehow I don’t blame them for fighting back!)

Would I have looked forward to a new regime when my two sons died of dysentery during the Civil War? Would I have been proud to earn a medal defending Washington DC during the Civil War when my very own brother had died in combat at Spotsylvania? Would I have carried on my life with breast cancer and two young children after my husband committed suicide with a shotgun at the start the Great Depression? These are just a few of the stories that I’ve discovered in reviewing my family history. These are some amazing stories of survival after losing much. And yet after all of that, my family is still here. We have survived, are surviving.

Madeline L’Engle in All that was Good writes

“If I affirm that the universe was created by a power of love, and that all creation is good.  I am not proclaiming safety. Safety was never part of the promise.  Creativity, yes; safety, no.  All creativity is dangerous…to write a story or paint a picture is to risk failure.  To love someone is to risk that you may not be loved in return, or that the love will die.  But love is worth the risk, and so is birth, its fulfillment.”

So I end these thoughts about beginnings with this simple prayer.

No matter what the future brings or what is about to happen in 2017:

Take the risk.

Rachel Held Evans on her blog encourages us to:

“Finish the book.  Pursue the relationship. Begin the ministry. Push the boundaries. Join the march. Write the screenplay.  Do the dishes. Plant the onions. Carry the child.  Roll around on the floor with your giggling toddler as if the world was even fractionally worthy of his presence.”

I could add to that as well; “Complete the family tree. Tell the stories.”

So I tell myself that this New Year is beginning and will be different.  There will be difficulties to survive amidst the laughter and love we enjoy.  I will continue to live my life and investigate my history. The sun will come up in the morning and set in the evenings.  The circles of life will continue to grow and carry us outward, onward, and forward. 

Gail Mehlan

Blessing and Curses

Deuteronomy 30:19-20

"It was so eerie that day.  I had decided to go for a walk in the early evening and it was so extremely quiet.  I could hear the birds singing and the breeze blowing gently.  Even though I was listening to music, I heard no airplanes overhead or traffic sounds from the highway. It was breathtakingly quiet and it was a beautiful.  I needed to walk off the emotion of this horrific day.  The quiet came from the president’s order of no flights due to the nature of the attack on our country. 

The United States of America, a country that I have been so proud to be a citizen of, has come under attack.  My immediate family is safe and we have all been in contact with everyone. It is a day I will not soon forget." from my journal, 9/11/2001
 

September 11, 2015
I can't believe that it's been 14 years.  This event took place the first year I was back in the public schools teaching in a Bilingual classroom.  I was listening to the broadcast in Spanish on the radio on the way to school because I was practicing my Spanish for a state exam to get my temporary teaching license to teach in a Bilingual environment. I was amazed that I understood what they had said, yet I thought I was mistaken until I arrived at school and saw the news on the TV.

Since that day, I have experienced an overwhelming number of losses and also so many joys!  I have had curses and blessings!
And I don't want to go back, yet, when I do....I see how far I've, we've come! 

God promised me "blessings" and "curses"...I remember the day I sat in the church office discussing this with my spiritual counselor as I was heartbroken over choices my teenage son was making.
He told me to "choose life".  Life for myself and "life" in what I chose to do to deal with the situation. 

I hadn't thought about this in many years, but when I came across this verse the other day, it reminded me of that day...."choose life".

"This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses.
Now, choose life so that you and your children may live." Deuteronomy 30:19-20.

I think this is what I did and do after each curse I'm faced with and this is what we did after 9/11/2001.  The country, New York City and all of us, continued to choose life and to celebrate the lives that were lost. In retrospect we can see the blessings from the dark places our lives have taken us. We see the gifts, and if we don't, we need to look harder, because they are there.  We will never forget because if we do, we will never see how far we have come.

Blessings and life to you all today as we reflect on the last 14 years and the horrific act that changed our world view.

Isaiah 61:1-3
"....to give them a crown of beauty instead of ashes."

Real People

Photo by Henry Winokur

It has been a long time since I've posted here...But none-the-less, my mind has been going non-stop about so many things.  One of the suggestions that I got from a workshop I attended said to focus on a “moment”...and elaborate on that moment. Unfortunately for me...a “moment” leads to a lifetime and there are not enough words to express all of that!

 

My dear father in law passed away on May 2, 2015.  We kind of knew this was about to happen and were prepared as best we could be.  My husband was surprised by the sadness he felt and still feels about losing his father.  Today has been a hard day for him right from the start because the memories just keep on coming.  It is Father's Day. (Here I paused….)

I came up to my "office" to check on something quickly...on the computer...and here I find myself, reading an old letter and drifting back in time...again and losing my train of thought for the moment.  It was too hard to write the story on Father’s Day, so I put the writing away and saved it.  Here in my computer’s newly expanded memory, the thoughts sat and a month has gone by!  

Here I go again, the day after our 41^st anniversary, attempting to write about how I felt during these precious moments.

As we were cleaning out drawers at my in-laws house, my husband happened upon a letter he had written on October 19^th, 1970. He found it in the bottom drawer of the nightstand next to his father's side of the bed.

Now, for your information, my husband's father was not sentimental at all, but for some reason he had held on to this letter.  It was next to a folded up napkin from our wedding, July 20, 1974.

“Dear Mom and Dad, Kim and Jennifer too!”

Isn’t it something special that we had to write letters back in the 70’s to our parents while we were away at college? I recall making a weekly phone call home on Sunday evening when the long distance rates were cheaper.  It’s a tradition I have kept up all my life, calling mom on Sunday evening at least once a week.  We wrote letters too! Poured our hearts out to our parents, boyfriends, sisters, and grandparents.  There was something special about hand written letters and this letter must have been important because it had been saved in a special place.  Doug said to me when he found it, “Come here and check this out!” Then he quickly folded it up and put it back in the envelope and said, “Never mind”! (He probably wasn't sure where the letter was leading with the mention of an old girlfriend..)

This sudden change of attitude peaked my interest, so when we got home a few days later, I read the letter silently to myself and discovered what the mystery was all about.  In the letter, he had outlined for his parents all of the activities he and his hometown girlfriend had participated in during the Homecoming festivities and it sounded like they had a great time! He also described difficulties he was having with his roommate and how they were going to split up and move in with other people.  He explained how hard he was studying and how difficult the classes were that he was taking at the time. He mentioned that the sciences were extremely difficult and that he was “running out of study time that’s ‘cause there is so much to learn.”  Then finally he says, “I’m still enrolled in college.”

The letter gets more interesting towards the end… and this is the part that touches my heart and makes me realize what a sweet young man he was when we first met.

He starts talking about “People” and writes, “People are just as important as studies and I have met some great individuals…people I love…not just acquaintances.  REAL PEOPLE.”

My experience of college dorm life, classes and meeting new people was much the same…you met really great people and you had time to talk to them and get to know them and you LIVED with them on a day to day basis.  They became like your family, your sisters and brothers, your neighbors and your confidantes.

Then he writes to his parents…

“I have also met a girl. (You knew I was leading up to that, didn’t you mom and dad?)”

“Her name is Gail Parker.”

He wrote this letter to his parents to tell them about meeting ME! This is so special! He wanted to tell his family that he had met someone he loved, a new girl, and he told them my name! So nostalgic and sweet, I began to feel those feelings of butterflies and anxiousness and the feeling of falling in love all over again! 

“I don’t see her much but…but I DON’T KNOW. I am anxious for you to meet her…she makes me feel…HAPPINESS…that means a great deal to me.  ON & ON & ON I COULD GO ABOUT HER BUT YOU WOULDN’T GET THE PICTURE. I’ll send a picture, how’s that?” 

What a precious memory…the time we were first dating and I made him feel HAPPINESS (all caps!). I hope I still do. 

We have been married now for 41 years. That is a long time and a short time.  We have raised three children and now are blessed with 4 beautiful grandchildren! As anyone who knows us knows…we’ve had some highs and lows but we have always remained committed to one another and to our family.  We have held onto our faith and each other through all of it. What an amazing ride we have had together! And what a treat to find this precious memory tucked away in a drawer!

 

Living Life Looking in the Rear View Mirror

Looking Back

Flee for your Lives! Don't Look Back!

Well... Whew! I feel like I have relived some of the past by looking at my old journals...I am looking back!

I  recently had a discussion with some friends about the story in the Bible about Lot and his wife.  In the story, they were leaving behind their life as they knew it. 

"Flee for your lives! Don't look back, and don't stop anywhere in the plain! Flee to the mountains or you will be swept away!"

Genesis 19:17

"But Lot's wife looked back and she became a pillar of salt." Verse 26

I do not want to become a pillar of salt, frozen, hard, solid, unmoving,  I must keep moving forward toward whatever the future may bring. We cannot go back. Not one of us.

I serves no purpose to look back...unless there are lessons that are clear and have meaning for us in the present.  Some memories can do that for us...but there is also a danger in looking back.

If we are continuously looking back, we may find we are living life with a rear view mirror perspective. That the past is all there is. That we can't break free from past mistakes, past sins. We are driving backwards, not moving ahead and onward. We keep living with the same view. A backwards glance. We can't afford to do this to our children either.

With God's help I continue to put one foot in front of the other and move forwards with this day and the very next moment.  Come again, Lord, and strengthen me for the day ahead! Don't let me become "frozen" in the past!

There is still so much to look ahead to! 

Our Children Cannot Go Back

We

have come over a long road

to the place where we are now...

in human experience,

and in our knowledge of God.

It is an impulse

stemming from good will to say

to our children

"This is the way I have come...

you must learn this way..."

But our children cannot go back

to the land from which we have come.

God has asked us to bring them 

to this place

and from here

They must be strong 

to go on

into a new world

which we may never

comprehend.

Gladis and Gordon De Pree