Critters Building That City

This was a very rough week, which I won't detail here...but am thanking God that He held off the real estate demons for a few days. It seemed like my work was suspended in time, just when it needed to be. My house was quiet, the weather was rainy and cool. Hard decisions had to be made, so we did some praying, some crying and some laughing. Then the squirrels started up...

I noticed that we've actually got some pecans this year. We put a new roof on a few weeks ago, and I figured it might shake those critters up a little, but naw. It was all peaceful-like one morning...everybody gone to work except me. I heard what sounded like gnawing up in the dining room ceiling. Then scampering. Then nuts being dropped. I told my husband, our sons, a few neighbors, and God about it. Nobody seems to want to deal with this problem. There ain't no way I'm going up in that attic. We have 12-foot ceilings in this old Victorian house, and our attic ladder doesn't even reach the ground. You have to put a bench on the floor, then pull the ladder down to it. It's very sketchy. Even my limber, athletic offspring take issue with climbing up it. The only ghost that lives here is the Holy Ghost, but there might be a few that try to flit through that attic once in awhile. I hear strange noises emanating and smell an occasional whiff of tobacco. They're all up there, dressed up with party hats and cute little tails, rodents masquerading as squirrels. But nobody's fooling me. I used to like those types of animals. I would even swerve my car to avoid them in the street, but no more. They're chewing up my house and eating our pecans. It's on.

Did you know that the law doesn't allow you to trap and re-home squirrels? We're also not allowed to shoot 22s in town, but we can shoot with a pellet gun. Two of my dear neighbors also like to keep their pecans, so we form a trifecta of squirrel hunters between our houses. You might see us all stalking about our yards trying to round them up. The hawks are waiting with bated breath, way up in the trees. I don't understand why they don't come on down here and do it themselves, circle of life and all that. But they get their share after the sun goes down. I never see any leftovers in the morning. And there's still plenty of them dang squirrels running around, at any given time. They must breed like rabbits. Apparently, cats breed like rabbits too, but we get ours fixed so they can't. I have a story about that for another day...

I hope all this helps reduce the attic residents. I'm sure not going up there with a pellet gun and Papa apparently isn't either. They say that they'll chew up your wiring and make beds in the insulation. Somebody's definitely working on a mansion up there and we can only hope it's squirrels and not the possums that keep coming after the cat food on the front porch. We used to have these problems when we lived in the country. I never imagined us making possum stew after we moved to town, and I'm not planning on it any time soon. But we sure could, if we wanted to...

A Good Dog

She came to me as a 10-week old puppy. Bouncing, beautiful Australian Shepherd. Seriously the most perfect dog I've ever known. She's too smart for the rest of us...she knows what it means when we spell "Chicken"- "Snack" - "Potty" and even "Bath." When folks visit, they leave the house and believe that Zoe loves them the most. I had a friend who is intensely afraid of dogs come calling one day. She asked me to put her up in the laundry room, but I didn't. By the time she left, she had decided that if I ever needed a home for Zoe, she wanted her to come live with her. Zoe has one flaw...she is jealous of the grandkids, enjoys licking their faces and also loves to steal their food. This has caused some drama around here but hey, she never poops in the house.

She came down sick last week, ending up at the vet for days and then exploratory surgery this morning. We have no answers at the moment, and only time and the will of God will tell us if she's going to make it. I've had some good dogs in my life, some great ones...but she takes the cake. She is as devoted as a soldier on duty. When I leave the house, I'm told she waits by the door for me. Leaving her at that place without being able to fully explain to her why, is breaking my heart.  I went up there today for a bit, just to see her and try to tell her, a dog, that I love her and that I'm praying for her. She kept going to the clinic door and looking back, wanting to go home. How can we bear it?

There is nothing like the heart of a good dog. Their unconditional love and steadfast presence are things that man has depended on since he lived in caves. They protect us, provide companionship, get us outside of ourselves, even. We raised our children surrounded by them, teaching them early a bit about what it means to be a parent, to be responsible for taking care of a weaker animal. We've all waxed sentimental about puppy breath and all the great dogs we've been privileged to have. But there's none like Zoe. If God only means for me to have her these seven years, I will thank Him for all of those days that we had. Then I imagine I will grieve for her the rest of mine. But just maybe, He'll give me (and us) a few more. Praying tonight for that, with a boatload of tears.

Love Birds

Getting people hitched can be a mighty big deal. Our three sons all did it. Their weddings were beautiful, meaningful and exhausting. My niece got hitched this last weekend. It's been awhile since I decorated one, but suffice it to say, now I need about a week of naps to catch up. My daughter and I gussied up the church. My precious niece was there with her fiance, all butterflying around. The next day, we decorated the big venue for the reception. We had an army of young people, swarming like so many bees to get it all done. Our family doesn't know the meaning of paying other people to do things...we DIY the fool out of everything, including weddings. In the end, it looks like a million bucks. We're only out a fraction of the typical soiree, although we're all knotted up and pert-near crippled when we get done. All that work, for a 20-minute ceremony and then a few hours of eating and dancing. At one of our weddings, a rich uncle, who didn't know any better, stated, "Man, somebody's put out some jack for this event!" I think they're prettier than the fancy, paid-for weddings anyway, even if we have to lose a pound of flesh to get there. Our baby daughter is the last of my children at home. I'm hoping we can all hold out long enough to do her proud someday when it's her turn.

There's always got to be drama of one kind or the other, or maybe lots of it. This one was no different, but with an extra dose. Without dragging in details, we had some scrambling and rearranging to do at the last minute. The bride was a shredded mess the day before, but still kind and patient. I worried her pretty new eyelashes might wilt before the wedding, there was so much weighing on her (though not from her fiance-- he was a perfect Southern gentleman, tenderly caring for her. I didn't know him before, but I really liked him after that). By Friday evening, we were spent. I wondered how the bride could re-find her wings, after the emotional torrent of the day. She looked deflated. I prayed for the next morning to find her ready and refreshed.

Saturday: wedding day! The bridal party lined up at the front, the bridesmaids a plethora of autumn leaves all done up in chiffon, each one different and lovely. Then came the stunning bride, a veiled vision in lace with a train that trailed for days. Her hair was impossibly beautiful, braided and skillfully coiled around her glowing face. No trace of trouble. No trace of fear. Just joy for the day and eyes for her groom. The Good Book says that a wedding is a picture of Christ coming for His bride, the Church. I love that. Love and respect are at the heart of a good marriage. Half of them end in divorce. I prayed this one will flourish and grow, an example to a weary world. 

A long day and much eating and dancing ensued as we wound down at the reception. There were candles enough to burn down the barn and twinkle lights strung across the lawn, enough to light up a football field. The old folks watched, the young folks and babies danced, then the luminaries and sparklers were lit. The happy couple made their way through the gauntlet of light....the groom swept her up and kissed her midway through, amid much hoopin' and hollerin'. Then they were off, with a squeal of wheels and more noise. We turned to laugh and breathe a sigh of relief. We talked of how we're not going to do it this big next time, how we've got to find a way to make this simpler...none of us believing it. The army of young folks starting the cleanup. Papa said I had to go home, that they could manage without me this time. So we sauntered down two blocks back to our car, holding hands and breathing in the sweet night air. The moon looked like a bucket of cream. I looked at my dear groom, recalling our wedding those many years ago and all the blissful ignorance of youth. I thanked God for blessing me with a good man like him. I remembered those first, flushed feelings of how lucky I was, how I got exactly the one I wanted. I sometimes forget that, in all our shuffling to stay ahead. But there he is, my knight man, steady and strong of heart. And here I am, still lucky.

Pumpkin Spice Thoughts...

Little Addison and Bennett came running in the door, jabbering my name and throwing themselves at me for hugs. They are two-year-old twins, smart and adorable. All of our eight grandchildren are simply the cutest and most wonderful children that God ever made. Ken says they are products of fine breeding and that we are not biased at all. 

I heard a Tony Robbins talk on YouTube the other day. I'd never heard him speak before. He looks like a cyborg, huge and other-worldly, handsome and with a gigantic voice. I wondered what all the hype was about. Maybe he actually is an alien. He spoke about breaking down what really matters in this life.... and how to tease out what we've done well and what has met up with our expectations. So I listened for awhile and thought about what my expectations have been for my life. He asked what was important to his audience: career, family, fitness, etc., and suggested that we all think about where we came from, what kind of dreams and plans mattered to us, and where we are now. And then he said to focus on what has gone well in our lives. Look at that, ponder that, lay aside the other things for now. 

There have been things I've done that I was proud of, things that somehow I accomplished or pulled off. There's been money made, paintings painted, houses fixed up and sold, people helped. But all that stuff burns off quickly when I think of the souls (four children, three daughter-in-laws, eight grandchildren) that the Lord gave us to be "ours" for a time in this life. That is eternal treasure that keeps on moving forward, priceless.

There are folks out here that don't have children or grandchildren, but their true treasures still get back around to the investment of life into souls, no matter how that translates. In a career, as a neighbor, through the written or spoken word, an act of kindness or generosity. The quiet plowing or the loud bullhorn, we all affect someone. When I think of the myriads of people who have influenced and shaped my life, I stand amazed. Sometimes just getting out of the building after church is like running through a gauntlet of rose petals. We are lucky to be in a place where gossip and condemnation are overtaken by Jesus in earthsuits. I've never seen such.

The weather cooled off ten degrees and I've done gone soft. There is truly a mercy when the weather lets up and we start to come out from under the haze of a convoluted and protracted summer. Fall makes you feel jubilant. Everything's dying but somehow it smells like hope. I've taken to getting on my knees every morning (no small task), telling God that nope I can't do it, but You can and I need ya to. Surrender is a sweet thing. Try it sometime.

A Wrinkle in Time

The thing I didn't understand about getting mileage on these bones was that it wasn't about not having enough time, it was about not having enough juice. I have been on a veritable Ferris wheel of doctor visits lately, checkups and what-not. They tell me I have a bad tooth that's not gonna make it (and it doesn't even have a cavity in it....I brushed,  honest), an ancient hernia that needs surgery, I'm diabetic and oh yeah, I'm too fat. As if I didn't notice that. Funny thing that you pay these guys to insult you. Then you say thank you on the way out. I kinda didn't think these parts would wear out so quick. I was hoping for a few more decades before they started doing that. 

Maybe I talk about my old folks too much, but they're my heritage and I am bound to remember and honor them. I recall them complaining about their crumblin' joints and rheumatism. I remember Pop (Ken's Grandaddy) saying he didn't know why in the world God didn't take him on out. He died by inches but blessed God until the end. My MawMaw, gripping her back as she sat down, though she never quit mowing her grass or tending her garden til the day she died. But then there was Grandma Betty, my Mama's Chicago Mama...she said she didn't want to grow old, so she kinda didn't. She lived life to the gills and then went out like a rocket in her 60s. (60 is the new 30, don't you know?)

When we get to the end of our days, when all is humbled through illness or infirmity, it may look like despair or retreat. We live in a cracked, sinful world that in the end whispers words like "Useless. Done for. Pitiful. What a shame." We run and don't look back, praying that the ravages of time won't catch up to us. Youth is deified and old age is abhorred. Now that I am on the cusp of those years, looking at that formidable hill in front of me (they always say "over the hill" but I'm seeing that nobody's actually coasting), I believe us middlers-and-over are lucky. We have layers and layers of life experience and perspective. When I stop and ask a few questions of the folks I meet, I am always amazed at what's under the surface. There's all this buzz these days about "authenticity." Etsy is world-famous because the items are supposed to be hand-made. Small batches are all the rage (I've been doing small batches in my kitchen for 37 years, by the way). Makers and Creatives! The young folks want to be relevant and radical for Jesus. Everything that was old is new again. 

Take the time this week to talk to your Grandma, if you still have her. Look around and stop your running to pause and notice the folks that are in your path. Strike up a conversation with an old person. Peel back the layers of time to see what's under the obvious. They might be wrinkled or fat or on the way there, but hey, those are life dents and there's always a great story lurking.