2010 Week 13

Granddaughter Kayla and I enjoyed our time together, two nine hour travel days listening to Julie Andrews read her autobiography Home. The purpose of the trip was to celebrate one aunt's 90th birthday, visit another aunt who is 95, and see cousins and friends.

On the way back we decided to break up our trip a bit more and have some fun.

Which hat do you like best?

And speaking of hats...it was chilly enough to wear this cute knobby wool hat on my walks. My SIL knit it while we were together in Idaho last fall.

Thursday afternoon, the three younger grandsons were here. They played peacefully and lovingly, most of the time.

One of the little guys asked me when I was going to clear off the pool table. So today I tackled the task and am able to show a more orderly desk as well.

This week spring flowers came out in force. I could give away a bouquet every day and not even notice they're gone.

The whole family is getting together tomorrow to celebrate March birthdays.

Flashback Friday: Easter

 I decided to join Mocha with Linda's crowd and look back on my lifetime experiences to pull out memories on whatever topic she chooses for the week. This week is the Easter edition, and I thought I was going to draw a blank. I honestly have no recollection of coloring eggs or Easter egg hunts, Easter baskets or wearing special Easter outfits. So, my entry may be quite different from all the others. As I mulled the questions over last evening and into the night, some images and events came to mind. I will give this a try.

What was Easter like when you were little? For example, did you receive a basket with toys and candy? Was the Easter Bunny part of your family's celebration? Did your family integrate both secular and spiritual aspects of the day? Did you dye Easter eggs. . . .and did your family eat them afterwards? Did you usually get a new outfit? (Post a picture if you have one!) Does any Easter stand out particularly? You might also share how your Easter today is similar or different to your childhood?

I called Mother and asked her what we used to do.
She said, "Nothing special. We didn't celebrate much. We were more practical."
For those who may not know, I grew up in a missionary family in Argentina.
I cannot remember whether egg hunts and such were practiced there then. By now they probably have an Easter Bunny and everything else as many American customs have spread abroad.

There are three Easters that stand out, each from a different period of our life.

Toward the end of our time on the ship Doulos, both Mike and I took part in the musical production of Breakfast in Galilee, directed by one of our best friends. It was a very special experience. I remember that at the time I had longer hair and wore two braids pinned on top framing my face. I wore a white sheet toga-like costume and looked the part for those times, at least I think so.

When we settled in small town USA, we kept hearing a lot about the Marion Easter Pageant. One year we got up at 5 a.m. to make sure we could get in to the early Easter Sunday performance. That was a powerfully stirring experience. Sadly it has been discontinued.

In 1991 we sent out a special Easter letter and our daughter contributed the art work.

Since living in the States, we have tried to do more. Our children especially keep up with traditions with their kids. This year Mike and I will be traveling. Another bicycling training trip is planned for next week.

So, friends new and old, this is my first meager contribution to Friday Flashback.
Whether we celebrate with all the trimmings and traditions or none, let us rejoice because He lives!

2010 Week 12: No longer alone!

Sunday evening Mike and his cycling buddies arrived back from their two weeks of training for cycling season. He put in 800 miles on the bike in FL and GA. No photos of the bicycle or the rider.

Monday Meal at Chef-son's we got to see other son's family. As soon as Elijah saw me he said,
"You've gotta come outside, Grandma." He had to show me that he no longer needs training wheels.

Sometime this week we finished off the muffins I make last week. (Gotta have one food photo, especially since I have no clean-desk photo to show.)

Wednesday I went to the new Indy airport to pick up my brother coming in from South Carolina.
I drove him up to Warsaw where he will spend a few days with Mother and visit Dad. We stopped at Global Auto, my younger brother's shop.

The Siblings: # 2, # 1, # 5

  

Mother and Dad

Do you notice any family resemblance?

I was so sure I'd have flower photos to show this week, but this is the closest, not quite open yet but popping up all over. I hope no snow or frost interrupts the beautiful display about to take place.

While I was out looking for blooms, I saw this, hubby bent over his potters wheel. He is so glad to be back at it, and his finger has healed sufficiently to not interfere with his Klaytivity.

Tomorrow, Saturday, granddaughter and I will be traveling to Tennessee for an aunt's 90th birthday celebration. 

Memoir Monday

More family history stuff...

We have an almost-Olympian in our ancestry!
A Times Magazine article received last week, dated September 7, 1992, includes a paragraph about my great uncle, Chuck Hoyt, in Hugh Sidey's America--"You Can Go Home Again: Like 30 million Americans nationwide, the alums of Iowa's Greenfield High hold a rendezvous with memory."

"Retired farmer James Law ('14) of Stuart, Iowa, sat in his wheelchair relishing the stories of playing on an undefeated football team and knowing the greatest school legend of all time: sprinter Chuck Hoyt ('14). Hoyt learned to run chasing ponies on his farm. "He was all legs," chuckled Law. Some legs. Hoyt took his first train ride when he was 14, to the University of Chicago's Stagg Field, swept the 100-m and 220-m dashes. He was asked to be on the 1912 Olympic team, but his widowed mother needed him home. Besides, she insisted, he was too young, and there would be another Olympics in 1916. War smashed his dream, but he went on to set a world record in the 220 and coach at the University of Michigan and Yale."

2010 Week 11: Second Week Alone...

Mike still in Florida with the alligators, well no, with his biking buddies, but he did send this one photo.

Actually by the time of this writing he should be in Georgia and home tomorrow night!!!

Brutus and I still hanging out. This is his attempt at joining me in a yoga exercise.

And this is my attempt at eating healthy meals: soup, salad and duck sandwich.

I thought the snow mountain on the front porch would never go down.

It is raining, the snow will soon be gone! Spring flowers next week, folks!

Skye and Kayla's great grandma died this week. I had to take this photo after the memorial service; they looked so good and are growing so.

Friday I caught a glimpse of my gordito when Kristie dropped off Elijah to spend the night with Meemaw.

I had already planned to have breakfast at Cracker Barrell with my friend, so Elijah came along and entertained us both and took this photo.

So, friends, it's been a busy week of reading, writing, and submitting; exercise for seniors class; three outings with friends; and the ongoing daily household stuff. No photos of the clean desk because it is NOT, maybe next week.

Friday Follow-up: Living Lilies

 Living Lilies

The responses were so positive this time:

"That is seriously cool!"

"It's pretty."

What if I told you it was made from trash? Yes, thousands of plastic caps and lids from containers we normally toss without giving them a second glance. 

The artist, Nancy Hughes, was also our guide and art critique. And here she is, telling us about the process. As she speaks she reaches out to snap shut some of the mustard caps that curious passersby have messed with.

She explained that the door panels were placed on the ground and the bottle tops arranged as best she could. Then, in collaboration with family members, she directed the desired changes from above, looking down from the deck where she could view the whole from a distance. When every piece was firmly in place, it was grouted.
Early on we came to a station titled Consider the Lilies, based on the same passage, the emphasis being on God's care for us, so lavish and personal we need not worry. That painting showed a hand carefully holding a lily. Imagine this, God clothes the lilies of the field, and they are more beautiful than anything the richest human ever wore--King Solomon, symbol of wealth and wisdom. If the heavenly Father looks after the lilies, won't He care for you?
The title of this final piece leads us to think beyond ourselves and our cares and worries to see the bigger picture. If we are those living lilies that God has designed us to be, what a beautiful bouquet we form together. When each of us redeemed ones occupy the place the Father designed for us, it is wonderful to behold!
This reminds me of the song Something Beautiful.

He can take trash and turn it into treasure!

So, my friends, this is the end of our Art Pilgrimage.

Wandering and Wondering

Art Pilgrimage: Station #21


The very last art piece of the Burning Brush exhibit.

What responses do the art and the scripture elicit from you?

2010 Week 10: First Week Alone...

While Mike is off to Cycling Boot Camp riding the Withlacoochee Trail (photo courtesy of their website)...

And Chef-son just finished his third ice art competition in Alaska (courtesy of Ice Alaska)...

The Age of the Mechanical Musher

Recognize the snow machines (Alaskan for snowmobile)?

Now, my photos:

Yes, while all that exciting stuff is going on, Brutus and I are here alone, plodding on.

 

Late evenings he sits on my lap while I watch a show or two and knit. I just finished those leg warmers (that's what they ended up) for the dancing granddaughter. Notice the remote close by to fast forward through commercials. What you can't see is the tissue box, an almost constant companion this week. No, it wasn't self-pity or loneliness, but a horrible cold.

Brutus, my textbook and Book Buddy on my lap. Yes, the course goes on. Glad for the flexibility of so much time alone to pace myself on slower sick days. Still very grateful for all I'm learning and the shape it is taking.

The other living things in the house that need to be watered regularly.

I, on the other hand, need to be watered AND fed. That is harder to do when I'm alone, but I try and make it look appealing too for my dining pleasure. Here I have leftover macaroni and cheese, tomato, avocado, and radish greens from the hanging garden. It was delightful, however, the reason for harvesting the radish greens was because it became apparent there would never be radishes. We are still experimenting with this innovative garden concept. Any experts out there?

 

Yet another meal, interesting vegetarian tacos. So, what do you eat when you are alone?

Saturday, I felt well enough to go to Indy for K's annual dance competition. She has prepared so hard and was so excited--two group numbers and two solos.

Before and after the last dance.

Friday Follow-up: The Sign of Jonah

Art Pilgrimage: Station #20
Cornerstone Festival

The Sign of Jonah

So, how do you like that image of Jonah? He looks rather bleached, maybe the fish's stomach acids had something to do with that.
Me? Well, I cannot begin to imagine living quarters inside a fish that allowed him to survive this hard lesson. Nor begin to feel what he must have felt to be confined in there, or sloshing around.
But, it was a whole lot better than thrashing about for his life in the tempestuous waters of the sea. And there inside that specially-prepared-for-him fish belly, he uttered a beautiful, powerful prayer.  He described his desperation as he was sinking to the very depths, hopelessly banished by God for running away from Him. And, still inside the special fish, he continues to praise and thank the LORD God who brought him up from the pit. He cried out to God as he was drowning and the Lord heard him. Truly those who cling to their old worthless gods are missing the grace that could be theirs, he says. So, is he willing now to go preach this to the Ninevites?
The Lord commanded the fish to spew him out and gave Jonah a second chance to obey Him and go to Nineveh. That great city experienced an amazing revival. God had compassion on the helpless thousands, even the cattle are mentioned. However, Jonah was not so gracious. He had been preaching doom and damnation. When they repented and God changed His mind, Jonah couldn't handle it.

There are so many rich lessons in this story.

It could be argued that this was not one of the parables, but Jesus chose to bring it up, to confront the scribes and Pharisees with this story they knew well. Why?

In his second year of ministry, Jesus is at the peak of popularity and beginning to have a lot of opposition from the Jewish leaders They accused Him of breaking the Sabbath, of using the devil's power to cast out demons, and even plotted to kill him. Jesus argues with them very logically and from their own scriptures. They say they want to see a miraculous sign. 
His response, "Only an evil, adulterous generation would demand a miraculous sign; but the only sign I will give them is the sign of the prophet Jonah."  What in Jonah's story was to be a sign to them? "as Jonah was in the belly of the great fish for three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man be in the heart of the earth for three days and three nights." After Jesus rose from the grave, I wonder how many remembered the sign of Jonah? 

Wandering and Wondering on a Wednesday

Art Pilgrimage, Station #20

 

I would love to hear from you. Any reaction, insight, comment?

Memoiring Miscellany

 

I.  One of my 'memoiring' searches led me to this old photo. So very many life stories could be told these many years later.

The setting: the sierras of Córdoba where we went once a year for church camp, a beautiful area that evokes fond memories.

The people:

• The two kneeling in front are no longer with us. The first taken in a tragic accident that left my friend to raise her four adolescents alone. The second, my best friend's brother, a seminary teacher. His death was not as sudden, even so, unexpectedly premature. His widow is wheelchair bound and has a non-verbal down syndrome daughter still at home.
• My three younger brothers are clustered on the right, all middle aged now (depends on your definition, I guess, but they are not in the senior citizen category yet), and all have a heart for missions--the taller one is a pastor who also served as a missionary in Argentina; the next one is serving there now; and the youngest is an elder of a Spanish speaking church.
• Next to them is my former boyfriend who will figure prominently in one of the chapters of my current writing project, My Argentina: Life and Struggles of a TCK (or something like that). As I was researching background information about JR's Basque immigrant ancestry, I learned so many interesteing facts.
• Argentina has welcomed the greatest number of Basque immigrants, so the connection between the two countries is very strong.
• They  are a very strong (stubborn?) people who have survived for centuries as a unique group
• Their language, euskera, has no known ties to any other.
• Distinguishing physical characteristics are: prominent chin and nose; big ears; and RH negative blood group. A common way to refer to non-Basques is "short ears".
• The tallest young man in the photo teaches and trains pastors and evangelists in several countries: Peru, Chile, Argentina.
• Some of the other names elude me. But one of the girls I must call this week, good reminder of a neglected opportunity.

II.  Materials have been coming in from different sources on both sides of my family.
An aunt on my father's  side started scanning old photographs. This one of Dad's four oldest siblings is a treasured bit of history.

  

All overcame adversity and lived full lives. The oldest was one of the founders and presidents of Grace Seminary. His head always did have a tilt. I wonder why? Maybe I will find out.

Another aunt on Mother's side, spent countless hours going through Grandma Hirschy's diaries and letters highlighting anything to do with our family. I especially enjoyed the following entries:

Gradma traveled to Huntington, IN to help out when Mother got out of the hospital after I was born. In her diary she recorded, "Sam carried Kathryn out to the car and into their new home. I held the baby."

Next day, "Baby is fine. She is a darling with black hair. Kathryn tried to eat dinner at table almost fainted, but ate supper with no problem."

It is hard to imagine Mother in such a weakened state. We know her as the strong one. How the roles have reversed. If she could, she'd be the one carrying Daddy now.

In the family letter the following week, Grandpa wrote: "Mother got home from Huntington a week ago today. She says the baby is a Hoyt, she has dark hair and is a very intelligent child, already understands when you talk to her. Hoyt and Hirschy must be a wonderful combination!!!!!"

So there you have it--the H-H heritage! ;)

Just imagine the fun I am having perusing the 200 pp my aunt chose and archival-librarian cousin copied!