Oooh…70 years ago….that seems like a very large number to me all of a sudden. Because on Nov. 5 I turn 70. When did this happen? Well, it happened on a Thursday, 70 years ago…I don’t remember what time of the day I was born. I do know that as my mother’s third baby her labor pains came hard and fast and upon arriving at the hospital I was born a mere 11 minutes later. She never totally forgave my dad for his hesitancy in getting her to the hospital…according to him “it didn’t seem like it was time”.

Sitting here at my laptop, finding myself curious about any significant events that occurred on my birthday, I did a search online. I came up empty handed; nothing of great excitement took place.

Next, I searched to find if November holds any special days during its calendar life. Low and behold I found four that made the list for the 5th. Not in any particular order, here they are:

• World Tsunami Day–there’s one I won’t be concerned with unless I visit a coastal or island country. Living in Mid Michigan my biggest worries are mosquitoes in the summer and lake effect snow from the western side of the state. Since I really like snow, I will check that off my hazard list of things to watch out for as life threatening.
• Love Your Red Hair Day–I DO love red hair! While some shades of this unusual hair color aren’t my favorite, when someone with red hair that is also thick, full of bouncy waves or curls, my attention is grabbed! I’m amazed noticing how some children with red hair have parents who are not…typically being ones with brown or blonde hair. I have a few cousins who have red hair…not sure whose genes they got in that department.
• National Donut Day–who doesn’t like a good donut? For years my favorite flavor was a plain one covered with chopped nuts. Now, I really enjoy a warm cider donut–pumpkin or cinnamon flavor–and if a “filled” pastry is classified as a donut (which is probably not) give me a custard filled one or a long john with bismarck creme…I’ll not turn these tasty treats down, calories ignored…
• Daylight Savings Ends: My husband will tell you EVERY year this is my favorite day. I abhor losing sleep unless for a very good reason…when spring rolls around to set clocks ahead I do my fair share of moaning and groaning. I am a self confessed whiner of all things related to this day and if I WAS in charge, I’d make a law against this nasty day. Just sayin’.

So, that’s what I found…four very different observances. They aren’t anything to make world or national headlines.

I do remember some major events, though, that crossed my 70 years since 1953. Again, in no particular order….the assasination of President John Kennedy (I was a 5th grader) *John Glenn orbiting the moon (I was a sixth grader) *the shootings at Kent State University in May 1970 (I was a junior in high school)  *President Richard Nixon Resignation *Iphones and the Internet take over technology *Death of Princess Diana *Deaths of Dr. Martin Luther King & Bobby Kennedy *September 11 Attack on the World Trade Center  *Covid Virus invades the World in 2020 *deaths of grandparents, parents, uncles, aunts, cousins,  and two brothers.

Looking at my very short list, it’s apparent that negative events hold a stronger place in my memory bank…positive ones are more personal– *that first full time job *buying a brand new Firebird in 1974  *getting married *birth of two children  *seeing our two children marry their spouses *births of four grandchildren *becoming a Christ follower in 1979 *moving from the city to a rural community *working on passion for writing, thus a weekly blog and a weekly column in our local newspaper *embracing physical exercise as beneficial versus drudgery (smile) *almost being able to touch my toes again all these 70 years later …traveling to Israel in 2019 *Seeing the Grand Canyon in 2021 *pursuing educational classes for heightened ministry work…say “hello” to future textbooks and assignments. Am I crazy? We shall see…..

Happy 70th birthday to me. For some odd reason I am looking at a 19 year old gal who had just secured her first full time job, working with men and women who were in their mid 20s, some married, and thinking “Boy, are they OLD….” a young woman who watched her own parents and other family members age with each passing year but never thinking about the day they’d be gone forever…because “don’t we think we’ll have our loved ones forever?”

70 years. I don’t know what’s ahead for me in the next five, 10, 15…into my 90s perhaps? It’s a part of the future I don’t want to think about too long and when I do, there are two conditions 1) I know who everyone is and 2) I can still touch my toes.

Just sayin’. 

All Saints’ Day, also known as All Hallows’ Day, is a Christian holiday that is observed on November 1st in Western Christianity. All Saints’ Day is a Christian memorial day celebrating the honor of all church saints, whether known or unknown. It is a day set aside to honor all the saints who have lived righteous and holy lives in accordance with Christian teachings. All Saints’ Day is part of a broader tradition that includes All Hallows’ Eve (Halloween) on October 31st and All Souls’ Day on November 2nd.

Who are the Saints? Sainthood isn’t limited to those recognized by a group of religious leaders. It’s granted by God Himself to any common, salt-of-the-earth person who simply trusts Christ (1 Corinthians 1:2). Words matter. And sowing confusion about good, biblical words like “saint” is not from God.

“To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints together with all those who in every place call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours” (1 Cor. 1:2)

The gospel message is that God the Son came to earth, lived a perfectly obedient life, died on the cross to pay for our sins (Romans 5:1), and rose again, proving His atoning work was complete (Romans 4:22-25). Scripture says that the person of faith actually becomes the very righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5:21)

How do we celebrate All Saints Day?  The Bible doesn’t tell us to pray to the saints (Matt. 6:6) or through the saints (1 Tim. 2:5). Instead, we think of our connectedness to past saints and find inspiration in their stories of God’s faithfulness. Hebrews 11 gives many examples of the great cloud of witnesses whose lives tell of God’s unfailing love and grace. These saints speak from the past and are whispering at this moment…

God is faithful.”
“The Lord is good. Trust Him.”
“His grace was sufficient for me in my trials and is sufficient for you today.”

There’s a hymn that’s traditionally sung around this holiday called “For All the Saints.” It encourages believers to look back through the years of Christian history and think of the millions now enjoying rest and salvation in the presence of God. It’s also meant to encourage believers here and now to press on, looking forward to the glorious day…(source: christianity.com) Alex Crain, Pastor

“How did Halloween come about? Hallow, in Old English, means “holy” or “sacred.” Therefore, “Hallows’ Eve,” or “Halloween,” simply means “the evening of holy persons” and refers to the evening before All Saints Day, which is this day, November 1, on both Anglican and Catholic calendars. Halloween is a mixture of Celtic religious ideas and Christian martyrology.  By the ninth century, Christianity had spread into Celtic lands, where it gradually blended with and supplanted older pagan rites. In 1000 A.D. the church designated November 2 as All Souls’ Day, a time for honoring the dead. Celebrations in England resembled Celtic commemorations of Samhain, complete with bonfires and masquerades. 

Poor people would visit the houses of wealthier families and receive pastries called soul cakes in exchange for a promise to pray for the souls of the homeowners’ dead relatives. Known as “souling,” the practice was later taken up by children, who would go from door to door asking for gifts such as food, money and ale.

In Scotland and Ireland, young people took part in a tradition called guising, dressing up in costume and accepting offerings from various households. Rather than pledging to pray for the dead, they would sing a song, recite a poem, tell a joke or perform another sort of “trick” before collecting their treat, which typically consisted of fruit, nuts or coins.

(source: history.com) 

***

This week children around the globe will enjoy “Trick or Treating”, an activity that was part of my childhood until the age of 12. My neighborhood had about 60 kids in one city block who filled dark sidewalks illuminated only by streetlights, porch lights, and jack-o-lanterns. There were no yard decorations like we see today. Those of us who carved a jack-o-lantern placed them on our porch and at least one or two houses took time to play spooky music wafting through the open door when handing out candy. Halloween has taken on many looks since my childhood in the 50s and 60s, but more importantly, I wanted to draw attention to a day on the church calendar that may be losing its place of significance. I’m speaking of “All Saints Day” which is observed on November 1. Rather than attempt to write a book report style article on this sacred day, I looked at two sources to describe this tradition and how it relates to October 31 and all its trappings we now simply call “Halloween”. 

The church I grew up in observed All Saints Day without fail. At the close of service, our pastor read each deceased person’s name which was followed by the ringing of one bell in the tower. Depending on how many folks we lost from January to November, the list could be short or lengthy. Listening to each name, hearing each bell, which broke somber silence was special and acknowledged losses for loved ones gathered in the pews. My home church, St. John’s Lutheran, was a congregation established by German speaking immigrants in the mid 1800s. For over 150 years the church thrived in Downtown Saginaw. Several years ago, the church closed its doors for Sunday worship. Membership dwindled to well below 100 people. The building still stands. Other agencies now use parts of the building for community services. Although diminished activity inside her brick walls still takes place on weekdays, the bells have been silent. 

There’s no call for their ringing, no names to prelude their beautiful chime. Hundreds of dearly departed souls over the span of the church’s life have each had designated recognition with each passing year. My mother’s bell rang in 1999 and dad’s came in 2012. When I recall hearing their name and the bell’s chime, I smile. They are now part of the “great cloud of witnesses” as described by the Apostle Paul in Hebrews 12: 1-2.

MY HEART IS WITH ISRAEL

Heaviness. Heartache. Worry. Fear. Questions. Unbelief.

Those–and adjectives I cannot come up with to describe my emotions–are, and have been swirling in my mind since Israel was attacked by an evil group of Hamas terrorists. Innocent men, women, children, babies–gone–by a swipe of a blade or gunshot….it doesn’t matter the method. The outpouring of innocent blood floods homes, streets, businesses, and the very land these people covered with everyday footsteps going about their work and play until the fateful first blows from the terrorists.

When images and news of the brutal attacks began making their appearance on social media and other outlets, my own heart jumped and immediately I knew our world was turning upside down as we all witnessed the evil causing bloodshed, death, and displacement of numerous families. And although being thousands of miles away from the beautiful country of Israel distances me from the chaos, my heart and mind are connected in a supernatural way created by God Himself along with biblical history of the Jewish people…and my own memories of our trip to Israel in 2020.

Though a variety of opinions exist regarding Israeli and Palestinian people, it doesn’t change the depth of anguish I feel for the events unfolding before my eyes every day. Putting politics aside, in simplistic terms the casualties on both sides are people–men, women, children, babies, elderly. For those who met death, their last day began as usual…they were enjoying the Sabbath hours which is highly revered and sacred for faithful Jewish believers.

I cannot imagine. I don’t want to see the carnage. I don’t want to hear screams. I don’t want to hear bombs hitting targets. I don’t want to believe a group overshadowed with evil’s darkest motives exists and carries out horrific acts of violence against another human being.

I want to see Light. I want to witness God’s power sweeping through Israel and wiping the terrorists from the map. I want justice granted for every lost life. I want peace to be ushered in and lay like a blanket over the entire area of carnage, bringing comfort to heartbroken and devastated families.

I want to see Light. The Light of Jesus. I want to see Jesus transform hearts, minds, and souls. I want to see Israel restored and rejuvenated.

What I want may not be fathomable. But God. In the midst of all that breaks my heart, He is weeping with Israel even while He is beside me as I pray for her…and against my own understanding…and being reminded from a good friend’s social media post…I also pray for the enemy.

They need His Light, too.

This weekend—as you’re reading this–marks a special day for me and my family. Sunday, October 15 is my dad’s birthday. Had he not passed away in 2012 at the age of 91, my goodness he’d be 102. While you may think that’s a very large number for a person’s lifespan, consider I have two great aunts who reached 100 and beyond. Great Aunt Esther lived to be 100 and Aunt Vinie was a mature 104!

Many people often describe their father as being “their hero’. That’s a description I’ve never given to my dad; I prefer to honor him by quickly pointing out that he was the BEST” role model” for me in many ways. In the Book of Galatians we are given a list of fruits that are produced by the spirit of God. They are Love *Joy *Peace *Patience *Kindness *Goodness *Faithfulness *Gentleness and *Self-Control. Though it may be hard to comprehend, I saw every one of these beautiful attributes in my dad. I dare say if gentle teasing and a “good shaggy dog story” (as he often described a corny joke) could be part of that fruitful  harvest, those would be hanging on the vine too.

My dad–Jack to his family and friends–never met a stranger. He struck up conversations everywhere we went, whether to the local hardware store in our neighborhood, a grocery store, restaurant, lumber yard…you get the picture. He especially enjoyed striking up conversations with children and encouraging young parents in the midst of a child’s tantrum that better days were ahead.  

Growing up in Saginaw, which had a thriving downtown business district back in the 50s and 60s, I was always amazed that when we walked into the Sears Roebuck store–namely the tool department–he was called by name. I guess when a guy purchases his power tools from one location you become recognizable. Even salesmen at local dealerships knew him well which was odd to me because my parents did not purchase their first “new” car until 1966. Up until then, the family automobile was always a “used” model, mostly a good ole Oldsmobile. 

His job as a building inspector took him to many homes and businesses over his career of 40+ years…there was one time when we were visiting my Grandma Jewell that he told her keeping a very straight face, “Mom, I’ve been in every bar in Saginaw.” Not one who was quick to scold or judge, gramma replied with her renowned gentility,  “Oh, my Jack, have you?” I’m pretty sure the shared twinkle in their eyes  revealed both humor and love behind the irony of his claim.

In my column last week, I briefly touched on our experience with dementia and my dad. We started noticing changes in 2009 which was when we made the difficult decision to move him from the house he and mother had built together in 1953-54. It’s the only home I remember. Dad moved around a lot as a boy, his dad relocating several times in Michigan to earn a living for their growing family that eventually produced 11 children. Dad was no stranger to being poor, knowing what it meant to go hungry…making a meal stretch….being grateful for God’s provision and faithfulness to provide….and above all, by the time World War II dominated news headlines,  with him and his brothers all serving in various branches of the military, dad saw that each one returned home safely.

I think with him being the middle child of those 11, he had ample experiences that included looking up to the older siblings and helping care for the younger ones. He loved his six brothers but his affection for his four sisters was something to behold. As far as he was concerned, there was none better, and as a youngster on into my adulthood, the reciprocation of love from them to him, was noticeable every time we got together for family dinners and parties. 

In those latter years of dementia, when the ability to carry a conversation became difficult for dad, when words faded behind cloudy eyes searching to recognize loved ones and make sense of things, the last phrase he often spoke with clarity was “family is everything”. It was his parting signature goodbye each time we visited the assisted living home. It became his “go-to” words to communicate feeling loved, giving love, and acknowledging as being the most important possession in life.

Sunday, I will spend  time reflecting and reminising having my dad for just a little over 60 years of my life. There will be some tears…some laughter…a lot of smiles…all while I humbly review the fruit of the Spirit list and take personal inventory where I may be falling short harvesting the attributes so well modeled for me by a guy who found it easy to love, laugh, and be grateful for all good things from above. 

MORE OCTOBER IS…..

As someone who has always been curious and enjoys a slight adventure, I took a second glance at my online search for days in October designed as “National _____” (fill in the blank). I found four more that I could make a connection with.

*National German-American Day–this was a ‘no-brainer’ for me. On my dad’s side his great grandmother came to America in the mid 1850’s in search of a better life. She was 18 and unmarried. In letters written in German between her and her mother back in Germany, they exchanged the everyday kind of conversation most common to all of us. There were questions about how the planting was coming along….how was your harvest…do they plant potatoes in America? While those back and forths don’t bring a lot of excitement when reading, the one paragraph that will bring me to tears every time I read it is…”I know that I will never see you again in this lifetime dear daughter, but I know we will see each other in eternity”. 

*World Mental Health Day–September is designated as National Recovery Month. Mental health and its complexities used to be a ‘hush hush’ topic in our society. But, as more and more people open up about their struggles, and our healthcare professionals give proper recognition to the increase in mental health struggles, hope is on the horizon. I know that in my family I can now recognize that my mother struggled with depression and so did my oldest brother. Unfortunately, neither one sought proper help for their symptoms. I often tell people I could tell by the tone of my brother’s voice if he was feeling “up” or was “down in the dumps”. My mother’s depression took on bad headaches and a lot of resting on the couch. Also as an unfortunate circumstance, while they were struggling I was at a loss as to what to do…what to say … .and most often I fell into the trap of being resentful. That’s a habit I want to overcome as I meet and minister to individuals who struggle with challenges to good mental health.

National Stop Bullying Day–Looking back on my childhood, I honestly don’t believe I was ever bullied. If teasing counts, well, I was the target of unkind remarks in my elementary years and junior high. I needed glasses by the time I was in 5th grade so I was called “Four Eyes”. Late to develop, sometimes I was pointed out as being “Flat Chested”. I had my fair share of snowballs thrown at me on my walks to junior high.

When I was in the first grade the neighbor boy David said something to me that I didn’t like so I beat him up in front of the other kids. To this day, if we see one another he reminds me of the incident. (He never bugged me again)

National Dessert Day–who in their right mind couldn’t get behind this one!? Goodness, it was sheer joy when we came home from school to find oatmeal cookies … .an apple pie or two…or a lemon pie…on the kitchen counter! How wonderful to know that while we were away at school our mom was cooking up something tremendous! Going to our grandmother’s home meant several pies lined up on the washer & dryer….cookies in the jar….a banana cake if we hit pay dirt (and to this day no one can duplicate her recipe)

I don’t know who thinks up these ‘national days’ but I give them credit for creativity, clever minds, concerned hearts, along with bringing awareness to each.

So, while I still have on my reading glasses (I’m still “Four Eyes”) I think I’ll go look for a yummy treat to enjoy later in the afternoon.

This weekend turns the calendar page to October 1 and as I once again asked myself “what shall I write about this week?” I got the notion to type in my search engine “special days in October”. The list is quite extensive. Many are serious…there’s a fair share that seem ludicrous while the remainder are quite silly….

I scrolled quickly down the list to see how many observances I could see myself participating. I identified five from the number in the long list…and though they may not be in a top ten list….I made fast connections with each.

*International Older Persons...hmmm, I noticed the word “older” versus “old”. Doesn’t seem that long ago as a young working adult I thought the 25 year old married guys in my department were “OLD”….I’ll be 70 in a month…guess my youthful opinion makes me a dinosaur now.

*National Coffee Day….I had my first cup of coffee at the age of 19 and that was by default. All the guys in my department drank coffee; if I wanted tea or hot chocolate it meant rinsing out the sole coffee carafe to have hot water. That meant extra steps to the bathroom…so I heaped a lot of cream and sugar to quench the taste of black coffee. It didn’t take long to realize adding sugar to my coffee was stacking up calories…dropped the sugar….not too much later I was able to eliminate the cream, too. But! I admit that I do enjoy seasonal creamer flavors that come out in the Fall and at Christmas!

*National Name Your Car...I didn’t know this day existed. Gosh, my husband and I have been naming our cars since we got married in 1980. A sampling includes Buzz Bomb, Madonna, Blue Whale, Jack, Hazel, The Waggie, The Buick, Snow White, Red Racer. I have no idea WHY we name our cars, but it’s been fun. I even had to ask my husband to help me remember a few names. He stepped in as I was writing to have me include names of cars from his own family…mom’s was the Rust Rocket and granny’s was the Silver Bullet.

*National Be Nice...for heaven’s sake isn’t it a shame we humans HAVE to be reminded to be nice? I had to include this one because after all, that’s the format of my blog. So, have you been nice today? You have until midnight…and then you can start over tomorrow when you wake.

*World Hospice & Palliative….this one holds a lot of significance. Both of my parents were placed under the care of hospice; I cannot describe the level of gratitude and respect I have for this organization. Caring for people in their final days, weeks, or months is a special calling. I’ve yet to meet a hospice employee who was not gracious, loving, and totally committed to serving families, sacrificing time and energy.

There you have it. There’s a few of special days in October that brought back immediate memories from long ago to the present. If you’ve got a few minutes, do your own search and see what you might want to celebrate in October, too. Grab a cup of coffee….glance at your car and give it a name….be nice today…heck, be nice every day! and be grateful for life, for the air in your lungs…pray you get to become one of the “older” people.

Ah, fall, that time of year when heat waves are replaced with cool breezes that begin to tear leaves from their branches….summer flowering plants either die or begin their preparation for winter by slowing becoming dormant….lemonade to quench a parch throat is replaced by a mug of hot tea or better yet, mulled cider.

Ah, yes, fall. Perhaps one of my favorite seasons, it offers glimpses of hope as each week brings cooler temperatures and less blue skies….brings back memories from years gone by. I’m almost 70 now, and while many childhood memories have long faded away, there are those that remain, bringing a smile to my face.

I grew up in Saginaw–in the city–so visiting farmers markets or orchards was a delight. My mother enjoyed making apple pies so our trips to local orchards was a given every fall. We had our choice of several growers to choose from….if she wanted Northern Spies we usually found them at Turner’s Apple Orchard or Bintz’s Apple Mountain. The advantage of going to Bintz’s included watching them make cider in their mill…waiting for warm donuts to come out of the oven, enjoying both at an outside picnic table under cloudy skies. If mom was feeling especially generous, we even took a bag of donuts home along with a quart of cider.

By the time I became a young adult another orchard established their business in a nearby community which included their own cider mill and bakery. To this day, you can enjoy one of their many treats inside their “barn look café”, away from those cool breezes and little bees that seem to enjoy a sweet treat as much as us humans. This orchard–Bayne’s Apple Valley–is a thriving business and popular attraction for local families. For me, it holds one of my most precious memories–it was the last time I enjoyed cider and donuts with my dad.

In the last four years of life, my dad lived with dementia. We kids did our best to get him out for social interaction, breaking up his time living in memory care. As was our custom, my husband and I made the 70 mile trip every Sunday to spend time with him. In October one Sunday, we took him to Bayne’s. My brothers and their wives were with us and we joined the crowds of families waiting in line for our delicious treats. When seated, we chatted. We reminisced about all the years we had spent time together drinking cider and eating more than our fair share of donuts, hot off the rack. Our afternoon was bittersweet, as I realized this may be my last time celebrating fall’s bounty of apples and donut calories no one bothered to count. Dad, at this time of his life, was quiet. Words didn’t form easily anymore. Most communication came through the twinkle in his eyes and a smile that never seemed to wane, even on a bad day.

We talked about the number of pies mom probably baked over the years. Did he remember?

We joked about which donut was the best…the cinnamon sugar? or the plain one? the cider one? Did dad have a favorite?

Before we left Bayne’s that cool afternoon, I made a stop in the store where baskets of numerous apple varieties lined the walls….carefully choosing a few Northern Spies for a couple pies…selecting others for applesauce and lunches. Each bag of apples carried with it a memory from childhood that fills me with joy every fall season now as I recall those former family errands and time spent together that have become precious reminders of living through many seasons.

Soon, I’ll visit an orchard or farmers market for this year’s supply of apples. I’ll hope to visit an orchard that serves cider and donuts…and I’ll lift each one to my mouth…hoping for a twinkle in my eyes complimented by a gentle smile to quiet the moment, allowing my mind to linger for just a few minutes in the legacy a paper cup of cider and a sticky donut create for a little girl…grown up now…making her own pies…remembering her past and rejoicing in a future rooted in love…in change…no matter the season.

We all know them. You know, those “firsts” in life that are exciting and as memories repeated through conversations…bragging … .reminiscing…they become milestones that are etched in our minds forever, like photos stored in albums…to be enjoyed for years to come.

With the arrival of September, many of our children and grandchildren have returned to school. Some kids across our nation entered their new grades in mid August, bringing a close to summer days filled with sleeping in after long playful days that stretched into nighttime hours under the glow of countless stars…lightning bugs hovering above lawns…bonfires and smores. 

For me and my husband, this is the first year that all four of our grandchildren will be in their respective classrooms. Our oldest is now in the third grade; her little brother has begun preschool. Our son’s oldest boy, age 4, is enrolled in pre-kindergarten and his little sister, age 3 ½, is also in preschool. To use an old familiar phrase, where has time gone?

The first day of school got me thinking about all the important first things we accomplish in life and though my list is lengthy, it is not by any means exhaustive. There’s my own first day of kindergarten. Though I don’t have vivid memories from that year in 1958, I remember my teacher was Mrs. Glass, who was quite seasoned in her profession and it was a positive year. Except, part of my first day of school included me  thinking I had accomplished the task of going…the second morning mother woke me I resisted quite firmly declaring “I’m not going, I already went”. Never mind I had two older brothers who went off to school every day under my watchful eyes. 

Learning to ride a two wheel bicycle was wonderful. We had over 30 kids in our neighborhood so bikes were plenty; we were always trading and sharing. One of my friends had a small “two wheeler” as we called them which allowed me to get on easily, practice my balance, knowing if I fell over the distance hitting the ground wasn’t too painful. I was so excited that the day arrived when I mastered riding the bike without wobbling…actually applying its brakes by pushing back on the pedals as designed, versus slowing down and jumping off which had been my early practice coming to a stop! With my newfound excitement I told my parents I knew how to ride a two wheeler. Much to my dismay dad wasn’t quite convinced as I begged him to buy me a bike. It took borrowing that friend’s bike and giving him a demonstration up and down the sidewalk in front of our home. I was SO pleased when his earlier suspicions were replaced with shared excitement and soon we made a trip to our local Firestone Store where he happily bought me my “first” two wheeler. It was green and had white wall tires. I became the envy of the neighborhood, now having my own bike to ride–and share.

There are other “firsts” in my life…getting a job after high school graduation–at our local children’s zoo. Enrolling in business college, carpooling for nine months and then landing a full time position with a bank, carpooling again–with dad this time–until he made a phone call to my uncle who was a car salesman. Uncle Rusty found a 1969 Opel, a car he thought would be perfect for a 19 year old. It was. It was bright blue, a two door which made it look quite sporty despite its small engine. I thought I was pretty cool. Until I visited my cousin Jim one day. He had a brand new Firebird and after riding all over Flint with him one afternoon I decided I wanted one, too.

Against my father’s wishes I made the purchase. Since I worked in a bank I had access to the book which calculated monthly payments and laid out a plan to save for my down payment in order to finance the remainder. When the time came, I ordered a 1974 Firebird from the same uncle who found my Opel. It didn’t take long–one spin around the block–and my dad was hooked. He even agreed to be a co-signer on my loan.

“Firsts” can be scary as we face many unknowns in life. They are also exciting and adventurous. Inevitably, they are unavoidable, too. How we approach and embrace every “first” that comes our way depends on how we’re wired…our knowledge of what’s in front of us…maybe influences by others who have gone before us.

I’m happy I learned to ride a two wheeler. I was thrilled the first time I put on ice skates. I was nervous on my first real date with a boy I really liked when we were both in the 11th grade. I didn’t know what to expect with labor pains and I’ll never forget how it felt when the nurse laid our baby girl–our first born–in my arms. Having her cozy up to me all swaddled in a small blanket, her sweet “new baby smell”, made all the memories of well deserved labor pains go away…and I found myself daydreaming of all the “firsts” that would now become her own adventures, me watching from a front row seat to cheer her on at every turn.

Our community suffered a huge storm last week. High temps combined with an increase in humidity created thunder, lightning, heavy rains accompanied by wind conditions that looked like the storm in “The Wizard of Oz”. Unfortunately for some, a tornado formed and wreaked havoc along a stretch of expressway between two small towns. Although I have not seen many actual photos of the destruction, I was told cars and semi trucks were tossed about like feathers floating in the air when a pillow breaks. Our home was protected; our only casualty was loss of power Thursday evening to Saturday before sundown.

Our daughter lives about 40 miles from our home and they, too, lost power. Living in their newly built home, they’ve enjoyed country living at its best, until their own stretch of time with no running water…fear of losing recently purchased groceries…entertaining two small children who are accustomed to all the comfortable amenities life offers. Initially, when the power went off in their home young Cody, who is 4, yelled “Jesus, Siri! Turn on the lights”. I’m glad he called out as he did…and put in proper order the ones he believed could remedy the problem. Thankfully, too, when the crews flipped the switch, made the repairs to their connection, lights and TV powering up, our lil guy walked around the house in sing-song fashion “thank you God! Thank you God!”

Storms bring out the worst and the best in us. Last week’s unexpected interruption to an ordinary evening in front of the TV was quickly flipped as though mother nature was holding a remote in her hand. And, this past storm was not the first time we’ve had to weather through a few days with no running water or lights. In past years we were entirely at the mercy of waiting for precious electricity as we paced the floor worrying about a fridge and an extra freezer holding all of our food. We did our fair share of finding a source for water to flush toilets and learning to eat sandwiches or use the gas grill, which is great by the way for warming water to take a sponge bath!

While hearts and minds yearn for all conveniences to return, seeing and witnessing how neighbors and church family rally for one another gives refreshment to the soul. With the added benefit of social media, those fortunate to be operating full speed in their untouched homes offer hot showers, water, a place to charge digital devices, a break for weary bodies and minds. In times like we experienced last week–and in past years–our small community always rises to the surface to love, provide, and comfort. Then, power is restored. Grateful voices echo on social media singing praises to the hard working crews who’ve spent hours away from their own families…and slowly….as ordinary days are stacked one against another, we return to “normalcy”….complacency sets in where frenzy once raged….social media posts return to those fed with memes and photos of family activities….work crews and their heavy equipment trucks leave neighborhoods…cleanup takes care of upturned trees and damaged buildings….life as we like to enjoy has returned….until the next time…..based on experience, it’s only a matter of time. Winter’s coming. Can you spell i-c-e s-t-o-r-m?