"Where does all this stuff come from?!" I exclaimed as I was cleaning out our newly-married daughter's room this week. Our old Victorian is short on closets, but high on ceilings -- most of them are 12' at the peak. It's amazing what you can amass over the years. I'm pretty sure there's a giant truck backing up to the carport in the quiet of night, with some kind of elves loading junk into my house. There can be no other explanation why I can't ever seem to come to equilibrium with the clutter.
While I was at it, we yanked everything out of our nursery and I painted the old wood floor (again). I think it's on its fourth color since we moved here eight years ago. The initial hue was light purple. I've painted it plum, cream, light green and now Renwick Olive. Maybe we won't have to insulate under the floors, the paint is so thick. I threw a second coat on there last night. Here's hoping it all dries good. I can't abide a sticky paint job. My grandkids were bemoaning the fact that they couldn't play in there, and began quizzing me about their toys. "Are you going to throw them away, Yaya?" Tempting, when I see the nice, clean expanse of floor yawning before me. But no, we'll have to jumble it all up again. Some things are worth saving.
We have a massive squirrel problem. Despite my Annie Oakley efforts on the back porch, the "Wildlife Busters" guy said that our attic is basically a giant squirrel's nest. To get rid of them, you have to get in the attic. To get in the attic, you have to purchase a new ladder that actually holds people who weigh more than a hundred pounds. Then you have to chase out or dispose of the squirrels. Then you have to plug up the gazillion holes those varmints have chewed in the soffits and fascia. Then you have to install a fortress of metal around the perimeter of the house. That just ate up two of my recent real estate closings, and the tax man ain't gonna hold back just because we've got critter issues. There are people that hate me because I sit on the back porch and hunt squirrels. Please don't hate me. It's for the greater good.
I alternate days, with my new empty nest. One day, I cry as I remember my babies and all the years of happy dances with them. The next, I laugh because they are now all beautifully asleep with their good spouses. Pa and I can run around however we want without worrying what time they're gonna get home, or if they're going to up and marry some idiot. Then the next day, I'm all misty with my thoughts again. I'm sure somewhere along the way it will begin to balance out. All I have to do is think on those amazing grandbabies and it begins to make a lot of sense. I'm way too tired to be raising kids again, but grandchildren are the sugar-sweet, bodacious reward of the silver-haired. I'll take it.
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Monday, June 15, 2020
Our Covid-Perfect Wedding, part 2
As the day grew closer for our daughter's Coronavirus-fraught-wedding in our backyard, it seemed like there was no way it was going to turn out well. Besides being able to invite a fraction of our original list, there were many difficulties to overcome: How to keep folks separated from each other but still have a party? How to serve our simple menu of cake and more cake, along with drinks, without us getting our germs all over each other? How to navigate the hurt feelings of those who weren't invited...How to do a DIY wedding when you're slap worn out...and especially, how to remember that this is my last baby, my only daughter, the true empty nest, without completely crumbling (even if you do love her fiance). And if the 'Rona wasn't bad enough, the riots started and we were all feeling like the world must be coming to an end.
I was walking the dog out in the cool night, a few days before the event...I talked to God and asked Him why all this was happening, and why did all the worst of things seem to be coming true right now, just when our daughter was about to get married? Not only was the chaos devastating, but they also are an interracial couple. My fears of culture clash, the difficulties they could face in the future...all seemed to be about to fall in on their heads. But in just the next breath, the Lord comforted my heart. Already, in our family and with friends, we had seen God change hearts and minds about Liz marrying someone of a different race. People were seeing Marcus as a person, a Godly man, an individual, some rethinking their unrighteous attitudes. Their love, purity and relationship was speaking to all of us, driving us to God's Word about the truths of these things. Our two families were coming together as one to bless their union, trusting God to direct their path.
The big day came. It was supposed to be very hot and raining -- even thunderstorms were predicted. We rented a tent, set it up to the side, and our army of family and friends descended to transform the back of our yard. There were twinkle lights draped impossibly high from the pecan trees, japanese lanterns, flowers and more flowers, creamy lanterns and candles, beautifully arranged tables and a jam-up dance floor in the middle. A friend helped me make an aisle with shepherd's hooks, hydrangeas and tulle, leading up to an arbor built by one of our sons, dripping with gorgeous flowers. The lights were lit, the drinks were chilling, the young women stunning in their multiple shades of blush pink, the young men resplendent in their black tuxes.
In any wedding, there comes that aha moment where it's finally time to walk the aisle. We were all lined up outside the door of our house, everyone beaming and thrilled to be a part of it. The music was divine, the six children who were a part of it were too adorable, but behaved perfectly. The bridal party made their way down. The groom was handsome, waiting with the pastor. Then came the bride, more beautiful and radiant than I can explain. A Christian wedding is supposed to be a picture of Christ and the Church, a sacred union of all that is good and holy. God held off the rain, and we saw the sweetest of examples of how He meant it to be. After it was over, after the amazing kiss, the jumping of the broom, the dancing to celebrate and the sparkler send-off, I kept hearing the words from the guests: "perfect. magical. divine." That pretty much sums it up. I think that, in some amazing way, it turned out better than if we had not been in the middle of a cultural Dante's inferno. We all felt like God was winking at us, because only He could have pulled that off.
I was walking the dog out in the cool night, a few days before the event...I talked to God and asked Him why all this was happening, and why did all the worst of things seem to be coming true right now, just when our daughter was about to get married? Not only was the chaos devastating, but they also are an interracial couple. My fears of culture clash, the difficulties they could face in the future...all seemed to be about to fall in on their heads. But in just the next breath, the Lord comforted my heart. Already, in our family and with friends, we had seen God change hearts and minds about Liz marrying someone of a different race. People were seeing Marcus as a person, a Godly man, an individual, some rethinking their unrighteous attitudes. Their love, purity and relationship was speaking to all of us, driving us to God's Word about the truths of these things. Our two families were coming together as one to bless their union, trusting God to direct their path.
The big day came. It was supposed to be very hot and raining -- even thunderstorms were predicted. We rented a tent, set it up to the side, and our army of family and friends descended to transform the back of our yard. There were twinkle lights draped impossibly high from the pecan trees, japanese lanterns, flowers and more flowers, creamy lanterns and candles, beautifully arranged tables and a jam-up dance floor in the middle. A friend helped me make an aisle with shepherd's hooks, hydrangeas and tulle, leading up to an arbor built by one of our sons, dripping with gorgeous flowers. The lights were lit, the drinks were chilling, the young women stunning in their multiple shades of blush pink, the young men resplendent in their black tuxes.
In any wedding, there comes that aha moment where it's finally time to walk the aisle. We were all lined up outside the door of our house, everyone beaming and thrilled to be a part of it. The music was divine, the six children who were a part of it were too adorable, but behaved perfectly. The bridal party made their way down. The groom was handsome, waiting with the pastor. Then came the bride, more beautiful and radiant than I can explain. A Christian wedding is supposed to be a picture of Christ and the Church, a sacred union of all that is good and holy. God held off the rain, and we saw the sweetest of examples of how He meant it to be. After it was over, after the amazing kiss, the jumping of the broom, the dancing to celebrate and the sparkler send-off, I kept hearing the words from the guests: "perfect. magical. divine." That pretty much sums it up. I think that, in some amazing way, it turned out better than if we had not been in the middle of a cultural Dante's inferno. We all felt like God was winking at us, because only He could have pulled that off.
Tuesday, June 9, 2020
Wedding in the Covid Cove
When we moved to Villa Rica in 2012, it was under a bit of duress. The downturn had all but bankrupted us. Our three sons were married, two of them not long before we moved...and our daughter was away at college. They were all devastated at us selling our lovely farmhouse out in the country that they had helped us build with our own hands. Elizabeth resisted the idea of the beautiful, shabby Victorian that we bought with our life savings. It was if she couldn't commit. As we strolled through the yards, I said, "Wouldn't this be a perfect place to have your wedding one day?" She said "Never! I never want an outdoor wedding. There's too many things that could go wrong." I mentioned this to her occasionally over the last eight years, with the same kind of response.
Enter her engagement. We planned for a huge wedding at the chapel and school in Cave Springs, which was very affordable and pure magic. Many days and nights of strategy ensued. We made several trips out there, to see the possibilities. I drew diagrams, we began constructing flower arrangements and buying up decor, dishes and sparklers. Friends contributed items. I cleaned all of our 30+ lanterns and carefully placed them back in their boxes in the barn. We were ready, three months out. I figured it would lessen the wedding stress to have most of it done as early as possible.
Enter Covid-19. The world shut down like a nervous clam. Not only were we scared to death to venture outside our doors, the venue sent back our money. I cashed the check and put it in a safe. We were having a wedding, somehow, some way, and that money wasn't going for bullets or groceries. When some time had gone by, the folks at the venue thought that we would still be able to have the wedding there. We plowed ahead, learned a new calligraphy font, addressed about 200 invitations, stamped them with wax seals the old-fashioned way and mailed them off with lots of hope. There were ooohs and aaaahhhs, plenty of questions and many well wishes.
My heart was broken for my daughter, as all of those special bridal events that a girl dreams of began to be cancelled as well. The possibility of postponing the wedding was simply not an option. These were Christian young people and had waited and remained pure for their day. None of us wanted them to wait any longer than they had to. But as each week passed, the bad news just seemed to pile up. At first, we watched the reports, the deaths, from remote places. Then we watched it draw near, mild in some cases and deathly in others. There were tears and dread. Surely Jesus is coming back soon, many said.
All this time, our hearts were thick with prayer. I prayed for her and her fiance constantly. I was amazed at her calm and thankful attitude. Drama was all around, but she kept her heart steady and fixed on the truth. Presents began arriving, first in a dribble and then a stream. Her matron of honor arranged a delightful social-distanced shower, then as things began to open up, a bachelorette weekend at the beach. Her originally-scheduled showers were squeezed into the last few days before her wedding. The only venue available to us that didn't cost an arm and a leg was yes, our backyard. Then we began to watch the weather predictions. All was looking dour -- 50%, 80%, 40% -- it changed every day, but always looking like rain. We ordered tents, made contingency plans, prayed more, cried more, rearranged every possible scenario that had conspired over the last six months.... to be continued....
Enter her engagement. We planned for a huge wedding at the chapel and school in Cave Springs, which was very affordable and pure magic. Many days and nights of strategy ensued. We made several trips out there, to see the possibilities. I drew diagrams, we began constructing flower arrangements and buying up decor, dishes and sparklers. Friends contributed items. I cleaned all of our 30+ lanterns and carefully placed them back in their boxes in the barn. We were ready, three months out. I figured it would lessen the wedding stress to have most of it done as early as possible.
Enter Covid-19. The world shut down like a nervous clam. Not only were we scared to death to venture outside our doors, the venue sent back our money. I cashed the check and put it in a safe. We were having a wedding, somehow, some way, and that money wasn't going for bullets or groceries. When some time had gone by, the folks at the venue thought that we would still be able to have the wedding there. We plowed ahead, learned a new calligraphy font, addressed about 200 invitations, stamped them with wax seals the old-fashioned way and mailed them off with lots of hope. There were ooohs and aaaahhhs, plenty of questions and many well wishes.
My heart was broken for my daughter, as all of those special bridal events that a girl dreams of began to be cancelled as well. The possibility of postponing the wedding was simply not an option. These were Christian young people and had waited and remained pure for their day. None of us wanted them to wait any longer than they had to. But as each week passed, the bad news just seemed to pile up. At first, we watched the reports, the deaths, from remote places. Then we watched it draw near, mild in some cases and deathly in others. There were tears and dread. Surely Jesus is coming back soon, many said.
All this time, our hearts were thick with prayer. I prayed for her and her fiance constantly. I was amazed at her calm and thankful attitude. Drama was all around, but she kept her heart steady and fixed on the truth. Presents began arriving, first in a dribble and then a stream. Her matron of honor arranged a delightful social-distanced shower, then as things began to open up, a bachelorette weekend at the beach. Her originally-scheduled showers were squeezed into the last few days before her wedding. The only venue available to us that didn't cost an arm and a leg was yes, our backyard. Then we began to watch the weather predictions. All was looking dour -- 50%, 80%, 40% -- it changed every day, but always looking like rain. We ordered tents, made contingency plans, prayed more, cried more, rearranged every possible scenario that had conspired over the last six months.... to be continued....
Monday, June 1, 2020
Peace, Peace
We'd just about had it. Well, we had had it. Pa and I were up to our necks in problems, what with his Mama being really sick, nearly three months of being held hostage in our house, a wedding that got tossed all up in the air (they cancelled our beautiful venue because of Covid-19) and then just plain being cranky. We've all felt like we were slogging through mud. We've had all this time but nobody wants to actually do anything with it except binge-watch and take naps at strange hours of the day. I've found myself all pretzeled-up in unnatural positions, with drool running down my face. We're practically living on our front porch, but that's not a bad thing. Nicest spring weather I remember in years.
If things weren't bad enough, some idiot cop does an evil murder, igniting an already-hot powder keg. If we thought the sky was falling before, now it's burning. Lord help. Ken and I were devolving from the stress already, when we decided to duke it out on the front porch. Not physically, but verbally. We were trying to come up with fresh plans about how to have our daughter's wedding in the back yard, but he's the unstoppable force and I'm the immovable object. The poor neighbors must have wondered what those supposed Christian people were up to. There ain't been no church to speak of and we're talking two heathens here, except that they've been saved by the grace of God. Two brands plucked from the fire.
We harangued back and forth, spiraling into really stupid arguments that made no purchase. How silly we humans can be, our pride choking all forward movement and hurting ourselves and others in the process. Eventually we sat silent, spent and full of regret. Nothing was fixed, Pa had to get to bed, and I still hadn't eaten my supper. If we can't get along, how do we expect the world to? I stayed up insanely late with our daughter, thinking aloud and worrying ourselves weary with the complications. There was nothing to be done but finally surrender to sleep. The human condition is often fraught with the hopelessness of our sin nature. Where is hope? Where is mercy? Where is grace?
Today I wrestled with the idea of going to the protest that was taking place in downtown Villa Rica. It scared me, the thought of hearing what might be uncomfortable, the possibility of danger or simply the unknown. I arrived to a peaceful, quiet crowd. There were things said, some good, some bad, things shouted, prayers lifted up. I met a new friend, Lillie, a beautiful woman with a kind soul. We talked, listened, nodded, had a moment, but mostly an unspoken ease between us. We were there because we know things must change, if we are to have peace. She spoke of God, the same one that I know. In the beginning, our ancestors got off the boat with Noah all those millenia ago. We're cousins.
Just like when I laid down my pride as I laid my head on my husband's chest after desecrating the porch with my stubbornness...I and we must also reach across to our cousins of every stripe to really see each other. That's gonna take a lot. The grace of God is where it begins.
If things weren't bad enough, some idiot cop does an evil murder, igniting an already-hot powder keg. If we thought the sky was falling before, now it's burning. Lord help. Ken and I were devolving from the stress already, when we decided to duke it out on the front porch. Not physically, but verbally. We were trying to come up with fresh plans about how to have our daughter's wedding in the back yard, but he's the unstoppable force and I'm the immovable object. The poor neighbors must have wondered what those supposed Christian people were up to. There ain't been no church to speak of and we're talking two heathens here, except that they've been saved by the grace of God. Two brands plucked from the fire.
We harangued back and forth, spiraling into really stupid arguments that made no purchase. How silly we humans can be, our pride choking all forward movement and hurting ourselves and others in the process. Eventually we sat silent, spent and full of regret. Nothing was fixed, Pa had to get to bed, and I still hadn't eaten my supper. If we can't get along, how do we expect the world to? I stayed up insanely late with our daughter, thinking aloud and worrying ourselves weary with the complications. There was nothing to be done but finally surrender to sleep. The human condition is often fraught with the hopelessness of our sin nature. Where is hope? Where is mercy? Where is grace?
Today I wrestled with the idea of going to the protest that was taking place in downtown Villa Rica. It scared me, the thought of hearing what might be uncomfortable, the possibility of danger or simply the unknown. I arrived to a peaceful, quiet crowd. There were things said, some good, some bad, things shouted, prayers lifted up. I met a new friend, Lillie, a beautiful woman with a kind soul. We talked, listened, nodded, had a moment, but mostly an unspoken ease between us. We were there because we know things must change, if we are to have peace. She spoke of God, the same one that I know. In the beginning, our ancestors got off the boat with Noah all those millenia ago. We're cousins.
Just like when I laid down my pride as I laid my head on my husband's chest after desecrating the porch with my stubbornness...I and we must also reach across to our cousins of every stripe to really see each other. That's gonna take a lot. The grace of God is where it begins.
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