2017 Week 39: Life is fleeting

 

Beautiful warm autumn weather lingers and Michael has been out almost every day chopping and splitting wood. The supply grows steadily. I remembered that last year Skye did most of that work.

I visited Mother on Tuesday. We read letters most of the afternoon and finished the treasured folder (9/10/1945 - 3/20/1947). We also went back to the earlier ones to piece together the months before our little family left for Argentina. I am currently trying to write that chapter. 

Ivan surprised us when he joined us in the dining room.

Ivan reading the chapter so far and waiting for his dinner. Mother looking so cute.

We lingered at the table so long that by the time we left, the monthly jam session had begun. We thoroughly enjoyed an hour of good music by the Singing Fossils. I suppose it was especially interesting to me because Dr. John Davis, the lead "fossil" (smile) was one of my professors in Seminary, oh so many years ago. He later became the fourth president of Grace Schools. I found a very interesting article that attempts to describe this renaissance man Guardian of Grace.

He introduced himself as an archeologist (one of his many interests), and went on to explain "as you know, my life is in ruins." He went on to categorize different old age groups: "70s are old; 80s are antiques; 90s are fossils; and beyond that they are really old fossils." 

He and his wife have recently moved in to Grace Village with this assortment of oldies, and as he stated in his humorous song they are having the time of their life.

We also really enjoy sharing a meal with the older crowd at the senior center on Wednesdays. 

I love asking questions and hearing stories from their lives.

Birthdays of the month

Some five years ago, at a writers' conference, I had opened a Twitter account. I never did much with it after that. A random notification popped up this week. I opened it, scrolled down and found a photo posted during an open mic session of me reading a poem I wrote after my mother-in-law died--"The lingering years. . ."

A couple days later, looking through a folder of correspondence from a Argentine pastor-writer- friend, I came across his translation of my poem,  which he titled "Aquellos largos años". Eduardo passed away last month. His wife died almost twenty years ago after long years of early-onset Alzheimers. 

We get old and our young grow older. 

Elijah (12) after soccer victory Friday. Memory of the same kid (5) playing with my Spanish club student's piñata

Friday we enjoyed Elijah's last soccer game of the season; he had an assist and a goal, maybe more. Kristie and I were busy chatting, getting caught up. The little guys played in the park. Oh, Jude informed us, "I want to be a paleontologist." And, don't you just love his tie?

Saturday,  a dear friend died. I rejoice at the thought of her body set free from the ravages of polio.

Today, Sunday, heaven welcomed another suffering saint.

I was reminded of an unchanging truth: God's love never changes, never ends, never quits.