Every spring, I saunter through March, April and May with abandon, forgetting that June's about to smother us. Part of our problem is that the pollen starts flying as soon as Father Christmas leaves out. We're whining and griping about that, failing to be grateful for mild temperatures and the smaller mosquito population that spring affords. Just about the time I finally get around to squirting off the front porch and throwing all the pillows in the dryer on the fluff cycle, it's already too late. The blanket of summer has descended. The dog is shedding everywhere and it's sticking to anything that moves. Ken hates me when I take her to the groomer, because she comes back looking like a hound dog (she's a titled Grand Champion Australian Shepherd), but I can't abide all that fur. I'm aspirating it into my lungs and you can see it floating in the sunbeams coming through the windows.
Several of the grandchildren were at our house today and they did the old-fashioned thing: Papa hooked up the sprinkler and they played in it and squirted water guns. Who needs a splash pad when you've got a nice, green one in the backyard? The soft clover beneath their feet and plenty of peanut butter and jelly...there's still hope for the next generation.
We celebrated my sister's sixtieth birthday at our lovely home on Sunday afternoon, with 72 guests. The heat index was near 100 degrees, so I wondered what we'd do with everyone. We put all the food out on the carport, brought out the fans, had lots of tea and ice water, and everyone had a marvelous time. The younguns ran circles and played soccer on the lawn, the old folks sat under the trees, babies were dandled on laps and young men looked wise as they talked politics. A lady commented to me, "You are living the Norman Rockwell life, Rose! Look at all these grandchildren, everyone having such a good time, your enchanting old house. Look at that swing. Why, someone's even put a Solo cup in the hole of your pecan tree. This is just wonderful!" I gazed around at the people enjoying one another, the different kinds and ages all around, the blessings of God from everywhere. It truly felt like the best of Americana and all that is good about the life of our country and our little town. As the evening waned and one-by-one the guests drifted towards their own nests, we savored the day and the relationships that made it so special. It takes a lot of work (and sometimes worry, if I'm honest) to pull off these things, and my nephew's wife carried the lion's share of cooking all that food (with four little kids of her own and another in the oven. If you want to get something done, find a busy Mama). When it's all over, there are crumbs and exhaustion, and I don't whip those things out as easily as I used to. But it was worth it. My dear sister Melanie, who is the most capable Lioness of every worthy event, deserved it and more. She's always pulling out the stops for others and making the magic happen. Even with eleven (count 'em) children (and now lots of in-laws and grandchildren), she's the most hospitable human I know. If you pop in to see her, she's going to get you a coffee and then try to feed you too. I'm bone-weary just thinking about it. I bought her a silly tiara for fun at the dollar store, but she merits a diamond one, I kid not. It's hard, with this many kids and grandkids and life layers between us, to make time to communicate like we did when we were younger. It's easy, I've found, when siblings get to those middlin' and beyond years, to let silly squabbles separate them, to let small pebbles in our shoes become festered sores. I told myself recently, when I realized that she and I had drifted somewhat, just because of logistics and busy lives, that we can't allow that. We have to push past it, to skim past small talk to the things that matter, so we don't wind up with calloused hearts and shallow sentiments.
"Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends." I Corinthians 13:4-8a
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