Hello, Texas

Brandon and I took a hurried trip to Texas Friday and Saturday for a family wedding.We enjoyed seeing relatives and being part of the occasion. I enjoyed hearing "Texan" again AND eating wonderful Mexican food at Pappacito's. I do not understand why some of the mexican food places here cannot find the same sauces used in Texas. The enchiladas (cheese) were luscious and the chips and salsa were very crisp and just a little bit tangy--just the way I like it! Good memories.

It was good too for Brandon and me to have the time together--it has been a long time since we had so much talk time. I am very proud of BST--he has grown up to be a good man, pure of heart, soft-hearted, and loving. Thank you God and thank you all our friends who helped us bring him up.

Sunshine and Shadows

The Amish invented a new quilt pattern many years ago called "Sunshine and Shadows" in which both light and dark colors are used in juxtaposition--beginning with a light square in the middle of the quilt followed by another row of dark-colored squares around it, then followed by another row of light squares, etc. It is a contrast of light and dark with a stunning visual effect when the quilt is finished. Of course, it is a metaphor for life--good and bad, joy and sorrow, etc. It is also a picture of that wonderful passage in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8: ....a time to be born and a time to die....a time to weep and a time to laugh.

I guess I have been in shadows since Brandon announced his resignation at Otter which deepened even further when Sheryl announced the family would not be coming back to Otter to worship, but felt drawn to another church. Selfishly for me that meant:

Brandon will no longer be my worship leader. I will no longer experience his evocative call to prayer and his emotive guidance into the heart of God. I will no longer be able to see the kids dressed in Sunday clothes freshly coming from class with cotton ball sheep and paper-sack mangers. There will be no special celebrations on Easter or Christmas or on the third Sunday of each month when instrumental and vocal musicians got to use their great gifts in bringing us to worship. And for so many other reasons, I have been a blue funk for almost two months, trying to see what God is doing in all this, both with Brandon and Sheryl and with me.

The sunshine is peeping through as I watch Brandon revel in his new job, receive acclamations for
his work and see Sheryl excited to be helping him find new venues for the productions. And to know that they are both meeting new people and letting their lights shine in new corners; and in seeing the darkness of the last year lifted from their faces.

Those shadows in my life are miniscule in comparison to the shadows felt by that small band of Christ-followers in Jerusalem the day after the crucifixion. That Saturday must have been horrible as they saw their whole world come to an end with the death of their Lord. (Had they listened a little better, he did give them hints of the resurrection, but like most of us would have, they went directly into hiding and sorrow).

Fortunately we know and they found out that Saturday is followed by Sunday, shadows followed by sunshine, and death by resurrection. Hallelujah!

Singing in the auditorium

I know my Sam would have loved following Zoe and attending their concerts, as I did this weekend.

The principal of a school never gets his/her work done while there is still anyone left in the school building. Someone is always coming by for advice, chatting and chilling. So my Sam would spend almost every Saturday morning at school finishing up the week. Most of those Saturdays he would take Brandon with him--how boring for a little tyke, you might say.

No, Sam would set up the mike and a radio on the school auditorium stage and let Brandon "perform" all morning. Sam had the intercom in the office on so he could hear him. Frequently janitors and teachers who were working in the building would come by to listen.

Thus, Brandon has always been comfortable in front of a mike and on a stage. One more gift of his father.

Laughter

As Father's Day approaches, I think more and more of my Sam. He was a wonderful father, although he had no role model for fatherhood. His father was caught in the chaos of alcoholism for most of Sam's growing up. When he was sober, he was kind and sweet; but when he was drinking, he enjoyed abuse(physical and verbal) and thought nothing of letting the neighbors know how dysfunctional the family was by doing all sorts of crass things outside the house, yelling, screaming, cursing. One of the favorite activities of Sam and his siblings was finding their father's stash of liquor and hiding it in bushes around the house where he could not find it.

Sam, on the other hand, somehow developed a model for fatherhood that has been copied by his son. He loved playing with Brandon (actually, I think that Sam never grew up inside), he abhorred abuse of any kind, and reveled in the accomplishments of his son. Yes, I would say that he passed down very good models. I pray that Brandon's Sam will carry on the new tradition.

Holding hands

There are some very unobstrusive, common things which help make life grand.

I remember when Brandon was a child holding his hand to help him navigate a curb, climb stairs or get into a car. We held hands going across dangerous streets and when he needed a calming while trying to go to sleep. It was good for him and very nice for me.

These days, Brandon is holding my hand to help me do some of the same things: navigating a curb, climbing stairs or a hill, and getting into or out of a car or a van. While I don't need help on streets or going to bed, I am sure he would help me with that too.

While we do not always hold hands, Babe, I hold you in my heart every minute of every day.