Sitting here staring at the blank screen on my laptop….pulling together thoughts about what to write about this week, my head is swirling with many memories from childhood…especially those from my large Jewell family…our weekly Sunday visits to my grandparents home…dinner invitations to an aunt’s….family reunions….weddings, high school graduation parties…and as years ticked along…funerals…some expected, others as a result of deep sorrow. The common thread for most of my first 20 years was knowing that on any given occasion I mentioned, there would always be several uncles and aunts present…the very relatives I could not wait to see as I got myself ready for an afternoon drive to one of their homes…most of them resided in the Flint area which was about a 45 minutes to an hour trip from our home in Saginaw.

My dad–including his brothers–were champion storytellers. My dad’s sisters held their ground, too, sharing funny memories from their own childhoods growing up in northern Michigan on the family farm where grandpa eked out a living during the depression years. As I listened to their stories, a common theme seemed to be “who was the main culprit in a harmless prank”….there were a few choices that could be made from six rambunctious boys and four girls. As I sat near any one of them, I soaked up all the good natured teasing and laughter that came from their shared antics and numerous tales!

This past Memorial Day weekend my husband and I drove to Flint on our own to attend a party for one of my cousins who is relocating to Nebraska. She and her husband hosted an ice cream social for family and friends to come enjoy one another’s company and say our goodbyes as they launch themselves into a new adventure. Riding along in our car, I was very excited, anticipating being with some of my family. As enjoyable as it was, a thread of sadness was woven into the afternoon.

Gone are my parents. Gone are my five uncles, their wives…one aunt –the baby of the Jewell siblings–is our last loved one to enjoy at family gatherings…

Filling the chairs now are us cousins–we are now the “elders” in our Jewell family. Missing are numerous younger children…it seems that life lived in the 50s and 60s is very different from the 2000s…it’s not that I doubt my extended family does not value getting together…it’s very fair to say that priorities have changed…our methods of staying connected with one another have gone from phone calls and family functions to social media, FaceTime calls, texting….and lazy Sunday afternoons are now consumed with work, sports…a variety of distractions that take us from our homes that don’t necessarily include spending time with loved ones we only see once or twice a year.

Yes, I miss my Uncle Rusty, the impish twinkle in his eyes as he lit up his pipe while getting ready to tell a story….my Uncle Lou who could spin a yarn that was slightly truthful but kept me on the edge of my seat waiting for the story’s outcome…my Aunt Helen gladly sharing memories growing up with brothers who constantly teased her, yet the deep love and affection they all held for each other was always part of her storyline.

miss running around with numerous cousins, all vying for attention from these loveable relatives who filled our hearts with love and affection…encouraged us…offered hugs and kisses galore….kept us entertained for hours on end.

I miss the beauty of yesteryear’s family gatherings where their memories were caught on an old Polaroid camera … .the time it took to get everyone lined up for the picture … .Now we are able to pull out a smartphone, snap a shot and share it immediately with everyone who wants a “copy”. 

This past Sunday, the lineup of loved ones looked very different but the laughter, the love we all felt around the tables that day, well, that didn’t change…..for those of us who attended the party, I hope we represented our respective parents well…laughing, sharing our own memories, loving on one another and enjoying the “younger” ones who made the afternoon drive themselves on a Sunday afternoon in May.

From a search using Google: Scientists believe that smell and memory are so closely linked because the anatomy of the brain allows olfactory (sense of smell)  signals to get to the limbic (the structural area of the brain concerned with emotion and motivation) system very quickly. Experts say the memories associated with smells tend to be older and thought about less often, meaning the recollection is very vivid when it happens. I believe this to be true!

This is the time of year that I will make a trip or two to my favorite greenhouse to purchase flowering and vegetable plants. Walking through the numerous aisles of all the varieties available for beautifying our yard is always a “walk down memory lane” for me, a lane I first discovered in the early years of my childhood when we visited my dad’s parents. Grandpa and Grandpa Jewell’s last home was about a forty minute drive from us. It was situated on several acres that allowed them to have chickens, huge berry patches of every variety, some corn, grapes, and wide open space to explore or climb trees. Our weekly Sunday visits with them were never boring. Sometimes there was a litter of new kittens, too, much to Gramp’s dismay.

While all of those things were great fun for a little girl growing up in the city on a corner lot, there is a memory from being with grandma that I hope never leaves me and that’s the smell of her small greenhouse which was attached to the rear of their small home.

My grandmother loved flowers, especially pansies and petunias. She had several potting benches to work her hands in the dirt when it came time to plant seeds. I knew all the stories of her “green thumb” which had to be diligent when raising 11 children, especially during the hard years the Depression era ushered in to so many families. I’d heard how her vegetable garden was a “legend” in the minds of envious neighbors who asked, “Sadie!–how do you grow such beautiful vegetables”…her gentle response “Oh, just a little manure now and then along with good watering”. Those in our family knew it was most likely “divine” care she was provided, because the truth is as grandma walked among her young garden plants she constantly was in prayer asking the Lord to provide for her hungry family.

In her last years at the Otter Lake home, she still planted a small garden, added in growing those pansies and petunias which she sold to anyone passing by–never on Sunday though!–that was the Lord’s day and money was never to be exchanged on His day. Folks were welcome in her greenhouse, dirt floors and all. She was happy to chat with prospective visitors or even pray with someone who would join her for a divine appointment. Family folklore talks about a time the local catholic parish priest came to buy flowers and since he had on his clerical collar gramma struck up a conversation that centered on Jesus–her first love! I don’t know what topic they landed on but it was clear they had a slight disagreement and gramma’s calm gentle manner to “resolve” the question was “I think we should get down on our knees right here (on the black dirt floor in the greenhouse) and pray about it”. That priest wasn’t comfortable joining her in prayer which gave her some dismay and disappointment. After all, in her mind, if two people professed loving Jesus, why couldn’t they pray together regardless of position or denomination? We were told that with all the confidence and gentleness this gracious woman could muster she asked him to leave “because anyone who can’t pray…..”

I could write volumes about my Grandma Jewell and I’m certain that will happen. I don’t want to forget her, having had her in my life for 14 years before her death. One way I am assured of not losing my memories of  her is every spring when I walk into ANY greenhouse…the smell of dirt hitting my nostrils…the warm humid air trapped inside the walls…flowers in bloom of all colors and varieties…and the joy I feel when I arrive at the benches holding pansies and petunias.

When you daydream of  being part of a defining moment, what activity or experience do you often visualize? For me, it could have been two things…being a writer or some type of singing ministry.

About the age of 13 I determined in my mind that I was going to write a book. After all, I thought, how hard could it be? Did I “know” anything about developing a novel that laid out a plot with twists, turns, and interesting characters? By that age I certainly had read many books and thought I had a pretty idea of “how to write a book”. I clearly remember sitting down on our living room couch with a cheap spiral notebook, pencil in hand and writing several pages. My dad was sitting next to me and casually glanced at my pen racing across the lines of each page, quietly asking me “whatcha doin’?” 

“Writing a book.”

“Ok!” was all he said in response. 

I think I remember writing two chapters of “that” book before laying the notebook down and forgetting about becoming a famous author.

Flash forward to high school and I landed in the journalism curriculum that was offered. By my senior year I was the editor of our yearbook (which won a national award!) and helped with articles for our school newspaper which was published on site. Our faculty advisor Mr. Matlock was a wonderful teacher and truly helped to lure me deeper into my love for writing. He was a stickler for quality work and meeting deadlines. Those high school journalism classes confirmed inside me that I wanted to write, somehow, somewhere. Upon graduation I had hopes to pursue working in an advertising agency but I ended up in a small business college program that led   to a 20 year career in the banking industry. Although I know those years spent in banking were far from being in a journalistic setting, I never forgot my daydream of writing someday….to the point that as a young adult I often thought how nice it’d be to write and publish a magazine or small paper that contained nothing but positive news and interesting human interest stories. Admittedly, I knew that our world gets enough daily doses of negative news and horrific events both locally, throughout our nation and the world in its entirety. 

Move through time with me again to the year 2012, when I left a part time job (stay tuned for further details) and revisited my daydream to be a writer. By now I owned a personal computer, had done a little bit of writing which had been met with encouraging feedback, and decided to launch my own personal blog. Recalling how I wanted to publish only “good news” and drawing from a family question “How hard is it to be nice?” I launched my blog titled “The Art of Nyce”. A close friend designed my logo and every week–mostly without fail–I have posed a weekly column on my site.

Now, some 11 years later, my blog is still humming along nicely…appearing on my site and shared to social media….I’m being given space each week in the “Fowlerville News & Views”. You see, I actually worked for the paper for about 10 years, managing the office for the Hortons, and was given the opportunity to write several human interest articles during those years. After submitting a Letter to the Editor about a month ago, I let Steve Horton know about my writing, my topics, always trying to be positive, encouraging, inspirational, and sometimes hit on my role as ministry leader for Celebrate Recovery.

I’m very grateful for the opportunity to expand my audience from my social media contacts into our community. My 13 year old daydream has taken on reality and though I don’t expect to win any big prizes for my writing skills, I do hope to draw you into moments that bring a breath of rest, a word of hope or encouragement, a break from those things that weigh down our hearts and minds.

This month I’ve had the privilege of teaching a brief lesson to our students who attend the version of Celebrate Recovery for their respective ages. We actually talked about “defining moments” for them, even in their young years. I was surprised and encouraged by their answers as each one spoke out loud their dreams and life plans. They listened to me, too, sharing about my 13 year old version and my path I followed, studied, worked to land where life currently has me. My prayer for each one of these kids is that they, too, can look back at their 13 year old versions of themselves and find they landed on success bathed in the joy of doing something they truly love.

Here I sit, in my chair in front of my laptop, the quiet humming of the fan running in the background as my fingers gently tap the keys while I spend a few moments daydreaming and gazing around my office…quietly uttering to myself…”what am I going to write about THIS week?”.…coming up with a theme, a generalized thought, is a real struggle and although it’s not enough to raise  my anxiety level, I admit I fret for a few moments over my inability to always have a topic in mind…to recall something cute or funny that may have happened during the week that could be turned into a whimsical post…to wonder why a morning spent doing other tasks all the while thinking “I need to sit down and post a blog today….” doesn’t suddenly give me something inspiring…

Until I glanced at a mailer from a local department store reminding me that Mother’s Day is Sunday, May 14. The fact that I kept the flier is somewhat puzzling because I no longer have a mother who is alive to celebrate in the day’s traditional manner. We said goodbye to her in 1999…moreso in 1995 we said goodbye to my husband’s mother, so you can see…we’ve both been motherless for quite some time now.

We no longer peruse through the countless cards for Mother’s Day…trying to choose exactly the right one. Gifts we used to purchase are no longer necessary and making time to visit both moms while they were alive doesn’t crowd our calendar on this special Sunday that has been set aside for moms. No, I guess I don’t need the flier advertising all the pretty things mom may want, but there it sits in the office filing tray, catching my eye when I look up from my laptop.

The pretty flier is displaying gift ideas such as slippers, candles, coffee mugs, soft blanket throws…makeup and flowers. All those things are very nice and I’m sure any mom would be happy to receive as a gift, but deep down for me I think most moms merely want to feel loved and appreciated by their children…to spend time together laughing over a meal…taking a walk down memory lane raising us who are now adults and parenting our own children.

Our two moms were the kind that didn’t need fancy gifts on Mother’s Day. They were the kind that I described above…I have beautiful memories of many Sunday afternoons spending time with both of them…giving them a carefully chosen card and maybe a plant that could be enjoyed during the warm months until Fall’s colder weather takes its toll on plants and flowers.

Yes, I don’t know why I kept this Mother’s Day flier. Designed to entice me into purchasing a gift from an array of items, it has provoked loving memories of two moms in my life and now–forever–added grief as I miss them very much..wish I could hear their voices one more time…hear my mother-in-law’s laugh….visit with both of them over delicious Sunday evening meals…joining with millions of other people who are also celebrating the special spot in our hearts reserved for our mothers….a special spot we think will always be there, ready to take in all the beautiful aspects of who our moms are…what they mean to us…a spot that was once living and active is now a treasure box of memories accumulated over the years…

This morning my good husband worked on adjusting the tracks for the drawers in my clothing chest. The small repair didn’t go quite as smoothly as he had anticipated. Yesterday, he had to adjust the Lazy Susan cabinet in our kitchen that holds baking supplies, coffee and snacks…that didn’t go very well either, taking more time and patience than he had in mind. Adjusting things seems to be a theme in our home this week and provoked my writing imagination about the very word…Adjustments. 

With the retirement of my husband from his varied careers from age 16 to present, we’ve been “adjusting” as friends describe the process…one friend even says, bathed in a chuckle, “learning how to dance”…you know, moving in sync with your partner…gliding across the floor without stumbling or falling over your feet. Yes, we are “adjusting” which made me ask myself this question–”Just how or what circumstances caused us a necessity to adjust?” In the interest of space here’s a bulleted list that came to my mind–and they may not all be in the proper order.

• Marriage in 1980
• Moved to new area of our State
• Birth of our children in 1983 & 1987
• High school & college graduations for both kids
• Loss of parents & two brothers
• Job Changes
• Surgeries & Illnesses
• 2020 Lockdowns
• Retirement in 2022

And with the last item…we are learning “new” adjustments…discovering idiosyncrasies that “bug us”…(argh) Admittedly, being together almost 24/7 has its beauty as well as challenges. Thankfully the good side of our new chapter in life is outweighing the downside of things.

We’ve had some minor spats. But we’ve also quickly apologized when necessary.

We’ve had more time to spend with family and friends. Being available at the spur of the moment has advantages.

We’ve changed how income is now generated for us. A steady paycheck or two has been replaced by Social Security benefits and my husband’s part time job.

Our aged bodies require a bit more rest, a break from tasks, a new medication here and there, more candles on birthday cakes.

We’re still really “new” in this gig called retirement but we’re making it. We’re learning how to share living space…balancing household duties…respecting needs for privacy or desiring conversations–except during a favorite program we’re watching….that’s still a bit of contention but certainly not a deal breaker for either of us to get real cranky and create another minor spat…

Adjustments come in a wide variety of circumstances during a lifetime. Most are natural. Some are unintentional or a complete surprise. All are opportunities to react or respond….

Distraction comes easy for me. They can come in a variety of forms such as getting caught up in a movie….decluttering a drawer which leads to investigating every drawer in the house to purge junk….scrolling through apps on my phone….gazing out the window on a quiet sunny afternoon. Today, I had my day semi planned…clean the bathrooms, go for a walk, sit down to email an article to our local newspaper and then write my weekly blog. While each of those tasks HAVE been completed, I did have an enjoyable distraction for part of my day beginning at lunch time. Our 3 year old grandson came to stay with Ah-ma for a couple hours while his mom attended a meeting. So, some of my tasks were delayed which was certainly okay with me and admittedly, sitting down to write wasn’t at the top of my goals….I wasn’t truly “feeling” like I wanted or could pen some words today that would inspire or encourage.

But, here I am. And to my surprise, thoughts are flowing…words are falling into complete sentences…the heaviness that was trying to weigh me down and distract me from writing has been lifted by the short company of a busy lil guy….

After our lunch, we donned our jackets and went outside to play. Well, he began playing by himself in the sandbox…I took one look at the hot bed, sighing over the healthy weeds growing in one portion of the beautiful black dirt…made my way to the garage for gloves and garden shovel….about 10 minutes later I had a bucket full of pulled weeds and raked the black dirt smooth. By now, our lil guy was on another adventure of his own and I began to get itchy to go for a walk (exercise is on my daily “to do” list)…

Thankfully, when I suggested we go for a walk, my lil guy was more than happy to oblige and as soon as our feet hit the subdivision road he squealed “Ah-ma, let’s race” and off running he went, lil legs going faster than I could ever hope for at my gramma age….but, thankfully–again–he stopped at a crack in the road and declared “I win!”

We made our way down the road at a nice pace. Every so often we stopped as something caught his attention….whether a rock or tree…a loud motorcycle coming from a nearby road…a plane overhead. It doesn’t take much to distract a toddler and when things do, I’m quick to remember that he’s learning and soaking up new experiences. In my world of familiarity, everything is becoming “new” to him….

Thankfully–again!–he didn’t hesitate or argue when I told him it was time to “turn back”…Even though we were essentially retracing our steps on the way home, he was seeing alphabet letters formed by the tar patch in cracks ….”Look!  A “W”….”  he also counted squares that the tar made…rocks he collected were first used to “repair a hole” in the pavement, but soon made their way into Ah-Ma’s pockets to take home.

I needed a joyful distraction today from recent worries and heavy thoughts filling my head and weighing down my heart. I’m thankful that a lil guy who is still learning and discovering our big world came to spend a couple hours which became a good dose of medicine for an aching mind and soul. 

He’s gone home now. The toys have been put away. The rocks he found and brought inside to “push with his toy bulldozer” have been returned to a flower bed. All evidence of his short visit has been removed…except for the warm memories etched in my mind and heart. I’m keeping those…..

Scariest thoughts and words have begun coming out of my mouth….”we’re at that age….” you know, the “age” we scoffed at when we were in our 20’s living on top of the world…you know, when we could see our toes when looking down a lean frame and even touch them while bending over with ease….body parts didn’t sag….being close to a bathroom wasn’t a necessity unless we were partying to our hearts content or beyond….and probably most concerning is  noting that all my healthcare providers are now the ages of our children….being a “senior” definitely seems to have arrived by all appearances and quite frankly–I’m not ready. I’m not feeling it.

In a previous blog I wrote about my husband’s heart attack that happened January 31. The experience has given us wake up calls, a new level of gratitude, and a list of changes to our lifestyle–mainly nutrition and exercise. Today, my good husband attended his cardio rehabilitation orientation meeting and I tagged along. As I sat in the room full of exercise equipment I found myself making several observations.

• You know how workout gyms have mirrors on every wall? I think that’s so wanna be gorgeous athletes can admire themselves while lifting weights or making sure cute tight workout clothes are accentuating all the right curves. There’s one mirror in the rehab room. I think most people use it to comb their hair or put on lipstick.
• Speaking of cute tight workout clothes that young gals wear so well? Not the case. What I saw were comfy leggings or capris…sweatpants…jeans…

Curves are still there, but well, let’s be honest…the curves have taken on new twists and turns…

• Adorable pony tails or neatly braided hair seem to be popular with young women who are breaking out in a sweat. The only pony tail I saw today was that of a guy who probably came out of the tail end of the hippie era…his pony tail was neatly tucked in the band of his cap…all gray hair, too.
• While most of the gyms are filled with teens and young adults, this place obviously caters to the “over 50 crowd”…only the rehab technicians are young enough to be our kids…

Today was a good experience. We were treated well with great kindness and respect. I can tell already that the folks who come to rehab several times a week are sort of a family. I guess that’s bound to happen considering we were reminded that my husband will attend sessions for 18 weeks–2 to 3 times a week…that’s a lot of work with a lot of people connecting.

Today I met “Miss Esther”. She’s 91 and all of 4’4”. I loved her spunk, her smile, her honesty wondering why she’s “still here”. “Miss DeeDee” was the one to speak up and remind her that “God has a plan for you Esther; he’s got a plan for each one of us”….loved Miss Esther’s response…”Well, the devil’s scared of me and God isn’t ready for me yet I guess”.

Yup, no fancy wall to wall mirrors. No young strong athletic bodies roaming the room from machine to machine. Merely one mirror, two TVs in opposite corners, monitoring equipment for each patient…all there to care for those of us who are “at that age”…and you know what? We’re thankful we’ve made it this far with much more life to live ahead of us!…aged curves…gray hair and all.

SHOES & FAMILIAR SIGHTS

With warmer mornings and promises of days full of sunshine, it’s past time putting away heavy winter coats and boots to usher in well worn athletic shoes and whimsical flip flops!

Toss in some cool water or hot sand to soothe tired achy feet and I’ve got a recipe for being in my spring/summer “happy place”! Sounds rather funny coming off winter and all my cheers for a good snow storm or two! I guess–if I’m being honest–I like EVERY season and what each has to offer….but, back to shoes and familiar sights.

This week the temperatures finally reached the high 60s by mid morning which is my favorite time to get outside. I actually own a pair of New Balance brand running shoes–no paid advertisement here–and these trusty ones keep my feet well supported during my walks that include a bit of running, too. I have a couple of routes that I use for getting in at least a mile or slightly more, depending on direction of the wind…my mood…a need for a change in scenery. 

We’ve lived in our current home for 36 years now. The “scenery” has changed…a sprawling hay field that could yield three cuttings in a good year is now home to a small subdivision…horses no longer graze next door…nor the goats that used to live with them. The empty lot across the road from us is still going through every season’s cycle of decay, new growth….continuing to offer safety for birds, squirrels and deer. Here and there in the undergrowth are wildflowers that poke out, enticing me to pick them, then remembering that’s a big “no-no”. Gone are pheasants….we’ve had wild turkeys come and go–much to our surprise.

As I walk and run along the road’s edge, I still see all the places the pavement has cracked and broken away…the shoulder’s gravel is full of ruts from the mail truck, cars and trucks that have passed by at speeds I consider a bit over the top, but wide enough for me to walk on when passing traffic comes along.

In the mile leading north up our road to a bridge, there are two new homes. One is yet to be completed. It’s tucked inside a beautiful wooded area that will offer its family some fantastic views of wildlife. With every new home built, our 36 year old neighborhood goes through a small cosmetic makeover…changing the landscape of empty lots or heavily treed spots…a new driveway adorned with a mailbox.

South of us is another area being cleared for a group of homes…if all the lots sell we should see 8 new houses…so far, only a paved road and property boundaries have appeared. One of the lots has a huge pile of logs from the big trees that have been removed, making way for a house I guess. I haven’t seen any activity there unless you count the deer who still cross the road making their way into the overgrowth of trees and tall grasses that come with late spring and summer. Theirs are about the only tracks in the dirt on both sides of the black pavement that winds its way to the back lots. 

Today, when I enjoyed my time outside I reminisced about the number of times I’ve walked our road…traffic has increased….familiar trucks still zoom by me and are still courteous moving over to make room for me. We exchange “waves” as a way to say good morning or acknowledge “I see you”. I note the homes where a family has moved, another taking up residence, acknowledging that I don’t know who they are….gone are the days when the school bus stopped at our house to pick up our own two children…the kids riding the bus are all strangers to me now…the mail carrier comes mid mornings now and I “think” I know her name…

I’m thankful for sturdy, familiar shoes made for walking. I’m giddy about being able to wear flip flops now without feeling I’m rushing the season. I’m thankful for our beautiful neighborhood that ebbs and flows with beauty and vitality through all four seasons. I’m excited to see where my New Balance shoes take me this spring and summer, until I have to put them away and drag out my faux fur lined hiking boots….oh. I guess I better go tuck those away…..

I love a good story. The storyline can be from almost any genre–although I admit I’m not fond of “dark” undertones, the kind that border on outright suspenseful to scare me into a sleepless night if I’ve read far into the evening. A good romance lightens my mood or an intriguing mystery leaves me guessing answers to  “whodunit” questions or trying to solve clues along the way of cleverly written words. Yes, I love a good story, whether I’m reading, watching, or listening. 

I’ve done my good share of reading since learning how to enjoy a good book tracing all the way back to childhood. Books were the road ways and avenues to discovering a world full of fantasy…scientific discoveries….biographies of famous people from around the world…libraries were the “internet” of my early childhood and all through high school. I fondly remember my father driving me to a local library after dinner every few weeks so I could check out 4 to 6 books…our city had several libraries…they were magnificent. If I close my eyes I can still smell the aromas from leather bound books lining shelves that filled the large building…the “library quiet” that was taught as proper etiquette while browsing the variety of books…each one waiting to be chosen and devoured back home while curled up in a corner of the room, maybe under a blanket…waiting with each turn of the page for the story to continue unfolding until the last page..when the back cover is closed ever so gently over the words “the end”…

I remember telling my Aunt Em that my favorite word when reading was “suddenly”. Of course she wanted to know the reason. “Well”, I explained. “When the word suddenly comes along it means something exciting is going to happen!” Suddenly, a story can take a twist that catches its reader totally off guard and  continue to pull her or him deeper into the plot…keeping the reader curled in that corner until the words “the end” appear on the last page.

Turn the page of my thoughts thus far to the best book I’ve ever read..the Holy Bible….This book of books–66 in all–has come in scrolls…leather bound editions…paperback form…and is now available through smartphone apps or the Internet. One does not have to leave the comfort of home in order to read words scribed over the course of several thousand years. There are historical events recorded….poems to inspire and encourage….prophets to heed…letters to reveal past and future events…I would dare to guess that the resurrection account of Jesus is the one that tops anything that is fantastical…supernatural…mysterious or intriguing….

If I close my eyes and imagine that it’s late evening on Friday when Jesus’ body is being laid to rest in the tomb…those carrying Him and mourning His death are quiet. Gentle hands wash and wrap his tortured body. He is laid on a slab of stone…tears are wiped away as each one departs the cold darkness which are the only things the tomb has to offer….a huge boulder is rolled in front of the tomb’s entrance. To those “reading” the story, they thought they had closed the book’s cover over the words “The End”….returning to their homes, grief swallowing up life itself and energy, they lay their heads down…trying to sort out the day’s events and pray for rest to come.

And then….the sudden of all suddenlies happens! The security and strength of a huge boulder is no match for God’s resurrection power when the stone is removed from the entrance…the cold slab lays empty except for neatly folded burial clothes…a supernatural twist has taken man’s feeble attempts to kill God’s plan for salvation and instead, launches a movement that the world has never seen then or now, 2000 plus years later. The book covers of THIS story exploded….replacing the words “the end” with “the story continues”….and so it does….

God’s story is one of great beginnings and triumphal endings! His story transcends all time…the alpha and omega plan that is only attributed to Christ is His story alone.  He is present at the creation of the world and He remains for eternity’s time as described in the Book of Revelation.

Yes, I love a good story…and while I have ready many books over 60 plus years, I never tire reading or hearing about the events of holy week…a last meal with cherished friends…a trial under secrecy of night….public torture and humiliation leading to a gruesome death on an enemy’s cross…a tomb with a huge boulder…but the “suddenly” that came two days later and changed the world then and continues to shatter peoples’ lives every day…the kind of breaking and shattering that leads to love, healing, and eternity with Christ…a story that has no “The End”….the back page of this story says “Forever”…..

A good representation here, a lone man on a paddleboard 

navigating waters at sunset.

This is not my personal photo, but captures the beauty of Canyon Lake when I enjoyed a boat ride down and back for 90 minutes.

Spending a week in Arizona–outside of the gloomy gray snowy rainy days that Michigan offers was a welcome relief recently. Boarding a plane in Detroit wearing leggings, shoes, and a warm sweater soon gave way to what Phoenix in March has to offer…sunshine, warm breezes, temperatures that don’t require being bundled under heavy coats and blankets. And! The welcome wearing of flip flops with freshly manicured toes peeking through comfortable shoes the entire week!

Traveling to new or familiar places offers me two of my favorite activities–1) meeting and talking to new people and 2) seeing the beauty of God’s Creation. Both never cause me to feel empty or bored as I venture out to enjoy “down” time.

When it comes to people I don’t know my kids will tell you I “interview”…admittedly, I do. I ask questions. I’m curious. I like filling the void of quiet with conversations. I think my ability to ask and chat makes for a friendlier community and well, world. I learned a long time ago to acknowledge people, especially those who are in a role serving me…as examples…when I approached the kiosk in the airport for my boarding pass, a nice woman greeted me and I returned a cheery “good evening”...I told her I was headed directly to security and she let me know I didn’t need to print my boarding pass. Her name was Holly and I told her “what a pretty name” and she grinned, responding “I like your necklace.”

After Holly I met up with the young man directing travelers through the ropes guiding us to security. Over and over I heard him say “please keep moving. Have your boarding pass and identification ready please.” When I got in front of him I said, “You’d be a rich man if you had $5 for every time you said that!” He laughed, realizing he’d never thought of that equation …”what would you do if you suddenly became rich?” I inquired.

“Oh, I’d quit this job, buy a big boat, take you with me and sail around the world.”

“Goodness…”I don’t think my husband would like that!”

“He can come with us! I’m not that kind of guy….”

He’s young. I really hope he gets that boat someday. And a pretty young woman his age to enjoy waves and sunsets.

Getting through security was a breeze….walking and watching a young couple with a toddler son go through the baggage scanning…the body scan…explaining to him that his “teddy bear” needed to have its picture taken and he could have it back real soon. The little boy’s name was Boston….when all of us got to a chair to put our shoes back on I remarked on dad’s Boston Red Sox hat…the little boy’s name…and advised them that my son in law was a diehard Red Sox fan and named his dog Fenway. Not able to resist temptation, I suggested that a future child could be named Fenway…dad laughed…mom smirked at me with a polite smile but wrinkled face that screamed “don’t give him any ideas’ ‘….beautiful family. Wonder if they’ll discuss my suggestion any time in their future?

Along with quaint conversations is my love for lessons that come through “word pictures”. The man on the above paddle board represents a powerful lesson in strategy for me and came to me after returning back home. My friend Cathy and I enjoyed a boat ride on Canyon Lake and during the return trip we encountered two people on their paddleboards. In the middle of the lake, they paddled with strength and agility making their way back to the boat launch. One of them actually came quite close to our boat as we created a small wake beside and behind our vessel. That’s when I got a good glimpse of the paddle board…its shape, much like a surfboard, a strong cord attached to the paddler’s ankle in case they became disconnected from one another, the lone paddle being dipped and pulling the water back as the athlete glided on the water’s surface. I could see that this sport was not for the timid or weak beginner…the launch was a good way’s off in the distance, strength and endurance was necessary getting back to the safety of shore.

Realizing the effort that goes into the sport of paddleboarding made me think of my own struggles…my recovery working through food addiction…codependency…fear…anger…to succeed I need people to come alongside me. I need the right equipment and the training that comes with the effort. I need practice using my equipment and must do so with diligence after starting slowly and building up to steady as I go….my anchor that keeps me safe and connected to my “board” is Christ…if I fall or get off track He pulls me back…my paddle is the Word of God…scripture is alive, it speaks and is useful for every challenge that tries to force its energy on a weak mind or body….I have people in my life that encourage me or hold me accountable for my actions…the boat launch is God Himself…He is strong, steady, a rock waiting for me to land on, cling to, walk away from troublesome waters and resume my journey on solid ground. Every adventure on my paddleboard–smooth waters or not–is time with God right beside me every stroke of the journey. Difficulties may produce a “wake” that tosses my paddleboard to and fro, but soon God’s calming presence makes the ripples settle down and become part of the water’s looking glass mirror….

People and paddleboards…both offer me a lot of curious and fun opportunities to chit chat my way through a day…learn incredible simple life lessons from the simplicity and beauty of God’s creation and those brave enough to turn a board into the adventure of a lifetime!