A bearded man came for a visit this week and he and Richard took off to the hills to meet up with family and then some friends. The leaves are late in turning this year, so the views are mostly green. And by the looks of things, we have fed Rob beef every day this week.
I mourn the passing of my friend, Stan Ellsworth. When I get teary, his words come back to me, “We do not die. We graduate.”
We were busy at the Weber, my sisters’ families had gone home, and we were running out of time to do the Virginia Reel. My mom and I debated whether we had the energy to play Turkey in the Straw 200 times, but if you look at the faces of the dancers, I think you can see why we do this each year.
The Weber property has power over memory and time. Nowhere else can I feel my grandparents’ presence and influence greater. It’s here that I feel the tangibles of my childhood so well, but also slip easily into my place in the continuum of family roles. I’m the older aunt in the kitchen now, the one on the shore and bridge watching the children float down the river. I have been the child in the river and the teen lingering on the edges of traditional family games and songs. I have been the young mother chasing children and playing in the river with them. Now I am the older mother, no longer trying to get my children to eat something new, with a heart stretched by distance between us. The balance has shifted a little during these midlife years, and I find that I look ahead a little less than I recall the past. In childhood, everything lay ahead. In the quiet of this phase of life, I feel ancestors about me, and see that they continue to shape my life, my expectations for my children, and my definition of the good life. It is a beautiful legacy to visit each summer at the cabin.
I told a friend that I am reading C. S. Lewis again because I need to behave better. His writings are an elevating influence in my life.
I have many people who influence me to be a better person.
My mom: She doesn’t get distracted by worldly noise and speaks truth without fear. She is also very fun.
Richard: He knows how to serve and exercises self control. He raises the fun index in the room. He has the patience to seek the best.
My dad: He is a builder, not just a builder of things like shelves and rock walls, but people.
Paige: It’s almost impossible for me to be negative when I am with her. She is optimistic and sympathetic, willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. She fills me with light.
Daniel: He is independent and willing to stand up for those who are bullied or labeled negatively. He shows gratitude and our testimonies grow together.
Timothy: He loves without measure. He is modest about his accomplishments and is steady in his work. He follows through with his commitments and perfects his skills so patiently!
Mark: He is obedient and seeks a relationship with God without guile. He shows gratitude.
Susan: She makes everyone feel like they are her favorite.
Sarah: She models love, independence, and strength.
Lorraine: She gives and gives. She tries to build connection in many ways.
Dale: He is a Christlike man who has only ever shown me kindness. He even tried to change the way he said Fish Creek when I had a hard time saying “crick.” (I can be so difficult.)
Janine: She has positive energy and knows how to lift others. I crave her company so often.
Charlene: She loves me and mine and lifts my heart in good times and bad.
Care: She knows how to reach me when I need a friend and she creates beautiful, fun things.
Becky: Seeks to encourage everyone in their talents.
Cindy: Never criticizes.
Kristy: “Seeketh not her own.” She is a rare person.
Anne: Knows how to live, but listens to my ideas, too.
Julie: She has blessed me with her knowledge and abilities and good book suggestions.
Melinda: I feel she loves me, despite all.
Nancy: She trusts me and visits me.
Kaye: She volunteers on every sign up sheet going around church. She teaches and models good homemaking skills.
I am out of time, and there are more of you. Also, I could say so much more about everyone. But you get the idea. So much good.
Feeling a bit low this week, I went shopping for a gift, and noticed a beautiful rug in the store. I took picture after picture and admired the price. But the thought came that buying this rug wouldn’t fix the way I felt. I remembered a friend in Arizona whose home was filled with expensive, beautiful rugs. When I complimented them, she told me that she bought them during a time of grief.
On this beautiful week of sherbet sunsets, long walks, porch conversations, and a midnight message that family traditions live on while apart, my lapse in courage does not need to be memorialized with a rug!
Finding courage is about gathering from a depth of being and experience we no longer remember. My courage this week came as I studied pictures and stories of ancestors, and from a small voice in my mind reminding me of the power within myself to handle this time in my life. It came as I trusted in my ancient and continuing relationship with God.
The definition of a good day expands when I am thankful, and it contracts when I am self-centered. By all measures, narrow and great, I have had some good days this week.
In Spring Lake, I taught a little art class and we made small tile mosaics. I spent time sitting on the porch with my mom and some of my sisters. I walked in the canyon with Richard three evenings this week.
I was a bit starstruck to meet two great historians and authors, Laurel Thatcher Ulrich and Kate Holbrook at a conference. And by “meet,” I mean there a was a conversation about our shirts as we waited for bathroom stalls. Later, “Thank you for your work,” was all I could think to say when I met the Pulitzer Prize winner, but I think that was just right.
What do most of these activities have in common? They were opportunities for me to deal in vast things, such as relationships, possibilities, and nature. They were opportunities to learn from other people. For all the reading and scholarship that I love, there are levels of understanding to be gained only through hearing a person’s voice.