Winter Schminter!!

So Christmas is over and I am already feeling bah-humbug…not about Christmas though.  Following ‘the most wonderful time of the year’ closely is a huge messy snowstorm---I have always had mixed feelings about winter. I love the heat and dancing flames from a woodstove. There is a coziness to the shorter days and longer lamp lit evenings spent reading, or watching the snow come down. I love making soups and homemade bread to warm and feed the little bellies I care for. Playing board games with the school kids and cuddling in blankets and watching movies with the toddlers.

I stood at my open door one night last winter and watched in wonder as the snow came down like sugar, it was so quiet I could hear it landing---and was tempted to reach down and taste it. I took a deep breath letting my lungs fill with cold air purified by the snow---so delicious you can’t possibly take a big enough whiff. Another day I was delighted for the kids as it fell in huge flakes that lay heavy on the ground just begging to be made into a snowman or fort.

I have good memories of snow and winter as a child. Making snow angels with my sister Donna as big fat flakes fell on our faces, and laughing as they fell into our open mouths. Other times I remember lying still on the ground watching the stars in that huge velvet sky, the warm smells and comforting sounds coming from the open door of the barn as Dad and the boys finished the evening chores.

As children my siblings and I would go sliding with half a dozen neighbors and stay out until our feet and fingers ached from the cold. Mom would sometimes warm us by letting us wrap our arms under her cardigan and around her waist. I remember windows etched with fern and feathers compliments of Jack Frost.

I sometimes wish I was of a species that hibernates so I could avoid the cold —and sometimes I wish I could revert to childhood and enjoy the wonder and delight of falling snow. As I look out the window-- the child in me rises up and I vow to make a snowman when the next snowfall comes and the snow is just right---- snow-angels? Umm, no......not with these hips.

A Christmouse Miracle

A CHRISTMOUSE MIRACLE

T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring except for a mouse. Hmmm...but our story starts before this, actually a few days before Christmas.

Zigfried blew his breath on the frosty window of the vacant farmhouse and rubbed it with his red mitten to make a peephole. Maybe today he thought hopefully. It was only a few days before Christmas and he was watching for a Miracle.

This house needed a family. It had been empty too long.

Zigfried’s tummy growled. “I’ve been empty too long,” he muttered. Jamming his earmuffs on and tossing his scarf over his shoulder, he jumped from the windowsill and grabbed a sack from his home in the bottom of the wood-stove.  He scurried next door to Farmer Mike’s.

Farmer Mike’s Farm had been a haven until the farmer decided he had to take a wife who had to take a cat. Zigfried shuddered. He knew how that song went. He and his buddies used to sit around a campfire late at night down in old Tomcat Hollow and tell cat stories until their little whiskers quivered.

Zigfried looked around casually as he slipped into the barn and whistled nervously as he filled his sack with oats. If he was caught, the wife and her carving knife could be trouble, but he wasn’t worried about Nuisance. That cat was one sardine short of a full can. He smiled smugly. He could out run that bag of fleas any day—on two feet. He was turning to leave when hot breath and a long black whisker tickled his ear.

 Zigfried’s heart beat wildly.

“Merry Christmas Mouse--will you be joining me for Christmas dinner? Do say yes.” hissed the cat with a lick of her chops.

“Now N-Nuisance,” Zigfried stammered and laughed nervously. He could outrun her, but he had to get out of the corner first. He sucked his stomach in, “You don’t want me. I haven’t been eating too well lately.

 Zigfried quickly reached up and yanked hard on Nuisance’ whiskers. While the cat howled he ran under her stomach, grabbed her tail and kept running--in circles. It worked, Nuisance gave chase to her own tail with Zigfried hanging on and staying just out of reach.

After a few rounds Zigfried let go and kept running. He looked back to see the cat still chasing her tail. Zigfried grinned to himself and ran-SMACK-right into the wall. He shook his head, adjusted his earmuffs and scurried away.

The next afternoon Zigfried stood on his windowsill in the vacant house. He munched happily on a pawful of oats as he thought about the news he had just heard. A new family would be moving into the farmhouse soon. His granny would arrive late Christmas Eve to celebrate with him. He hoped that the new family would come before then---the house would be warmer, and Christmas was so much more enjoyable when you could pilfer through someone’s cupboards for your Christmas feast, rather than be hunted while gathering it. He was bellowing his way through “No Place Like Home for the Holidays,” when he heard a low rumble.

Zigfried jumped for joy and wriggled a jig. A big moving van was coming up the driveway. When two laughing children tumbled from the van, Zigfried was beside himself. Children….peanut butter sandwiches…..cheese and crackers, Zigfried’s whiskers trembled and he drooled just thinking about the crumbly possibilities.

Zigfried’s Christmas Miracle had arrived.

The old house came alive the next few days. Zigfried awoke early with the tea kettle singing cheerily on the wood stove. It ended late with the upstairs door swinging softly closed. The lady of the house shopped and filled her cupboards and baked and filled her pantry. At night while the family slept—Zigfried bagged and filled his cupboards. He looked and looked for red gumdrops, but none were to be found—they were his granny’s favorite.

***

The day before Christmas Zigfried smiled as he leaned against the door to his home, sipping hot chocolate. The children were laughing and talking about what they might get for Christmas.

Skates? A toboggan? A cat?

The smile fell from Zigfried’s face as he leaned closer; he heard the mother say, ‘No, you are not getting a cat’. Zigfried sagged with relief.

“But, the mother continued, ‘Uncle Mike is coming over this morning. He has asked us to take care of his cat. His Mother-in law is coming for Christmas and she is allergic to cats. I said we would be happy to-- it is a small thing to do when he has done so much for us.”

Stunned, Zigfried spewed hot chocolate through his nose---his mouth fell wide open. His whiskers bristled, and when he found his voice, it came out in an indignant squeak.  "HEY!! WHOSE CHRISTMAS MIRACLE IS THIS? 

With Nuisance here there would be no ‘Silent Night’ or ‘Peace on Earth’ this Christmas.

Nuisance arrived soon after and her basket was placed next to the stove…..only inches from Zigfried’s door. The two animals spent the day dodging each other---Zigfried dodging Nuisance’ paws---and Nuisance dodging the snapping clothespin Zigfried carried under his arm to defend himself. As he dodged, Zigfried paced and planned. Granny would arrive in a few hours. He worried Nuisance would be the first to greet her.

At ten o’clock Nuisance was put out to do her night business. Zigfried crept from his hole and quickly dropped bits of his precious Christmas feast through the house and up the stairs.

 When Nuisance returned, Zigfried watched with satisfaction as the cat took the bait. When the woman went to bed and closed the door to the stairs it was so softly that Zigfried didn’t even hear it.

He added the last few touches to his own Christmas tree and put mulled cider on to warm, he pulled Granny's rocking chair close to the tiny Christmas tree and laid her favorite blanket over it. Sighing with contentment he wandered to his favorite spot on the windowsill of the living room to wait.

 It was a clear night with a full moon. The bright silver stars blinked sleepily in the blue velvet sky. Inside, the Christmas tree was decorated with many colored lights.  He peered close to see if anyone could tell where he had been nibbling on the garlands of popcorn and cranberries. Shiny glass ornaments and long silver strands of icicles caught the light, sparkling and dancing with the promise of good things to come. A glass of milk and a plate of sugar cookies and carrots sat on a small table beside the armchair. Zigfried loved sugar cookies. His whiskers trembled but he didn't touch them. He thought those must be for someone special.

He turned his attention to the outside view again, cleared his throat and began to recite in a clear strong voice… “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house….

Whack! A huge black paw came down on top of Zigfried.

“Not a creature was stirring, especially the mouse,” Said Nuisance as she let out a wicked hiss.

Zigfried pulled--he panicked--he prayed. Surely he wouldn't have to beg. As he struggled to get out from under Nuisance’ paw, he tried to negotiate, "C’mon Nuisance, don’t you feel any Christmas spirit?"

‘Yes’, said Nuisance as she licked her whiskers and held Zigfried firmly with both front paws. ‘What do they call it when you look forward to something—oh, yes, now I remember-- anticipation?  She laughed her wicked laugh again.

Suddenly there was a whoosh and a thud. Both animals were so surprised they tumbled from the windowsill and just stared.  A round shadowy figure crawled from the fireplace. They had heard the stories, but had never been sure they were true.

The figure piled gifts under the tree and filled stockings until they bulged. He sighed and sank heavily into the armchair. He’d had two cookies and was reaching for the third, but patting his belly, he changed his mind. He stood and put the carrots in his pocket.

The animals gulped as the figure came to where they flattened themselves against the wall. He gave Zigfried a beautiful red wagon filled with gifts for him and his Granny. Zigfried noticed right away there were red gumdrops.

‘Merry Christmas, little Zigfried,’ said the figure. With a twinkle in his eye, he scooped up a very quiet Nuisance.   "I’ll see that the door is latched tightly this time.” With a nod and a wink, he laughed a jolly laugh and was gone.

As Zigfried went to greet his granny, he hummed ‘Silent Night’ and nibbled on the last sugar cookie.  As he pulled his shiny new wagon behind him, he wondered briefly what Nuisance would get for Christmas.

THE END

Zigfried’s Sugar Cookies

#1

1 cup butter

1 cup vegetable oil

1 cup icing sugar

1 cup white sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla

#2

4 cups and two tablespoons of flour

1 teaspoon of baking soda

1 teaspoon cream of tartar

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon nutmeg

METHOD: Mix all ingredients in list number one until creamy---sift together all ingredients from list two. Gradually stir sifted ingredients into the first mixture. Refrigerate for 15-20 minutes. Then roll into small balls, roll in white sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes—with oven rack one level above the center. When cool, add a small amount of white icing and top with a red gumdrop.  Or decorate with red and green sprinkles.

Goodnight Moon

Goodnight Moon

“The world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers & cities; but to know someone who thinks & feels with us, & who, though distant, is close to us in spirit, this makes the earth for us an inhabited garden.”― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The view from my deck this morning was inspiring. As I stood there listening to the happy chatter of the birds—obviously they drink dark roast too—I looked at the little sliver of moon and thought of my friends in Western Canada who still slept under the same moon, and my friends to the east, Britain and Germany, who were well into their day, but were living under the same sky although the moon was no longer visible to them. It made the world seem smaller and my friends not so far away.

Sunday afternoon I lay down for a nap and listened to the birds outside my window and watched the sheers blow softly in the spring breeze. I drifted off to sleep and woke to the telephone ringing. My friend was calling me from England. We had a leisurely chat and shared the weeks news, knowing that although it cost, it is not excessive like it was just a few years ago. While the time difference is a challenge, we like to talk whenever we can time it right. We use Facebook and emails, and sometimes share an ongoing Scrabble game online; but there is nothing like hearing the warmth of her voice as she talks about her son, or hearing her sympathize ----and laugh, at my latest-- it could only happen to me story.

Both my Father’s and Mothers’ families are large and I have many cousins. Usually I see a few of them once a year at our family reunion or occasionally around the community. I have some of these cousins on my Facebook and I like to see what is going on in their lives, banter a bit and share family photos. I have two grown nephews living in Alberta and although they call sometimes, we mostly use Facebook to keep in touch.

I used to love to write letters—the old fashioned way. I would choose my words carefully, underline, punctuate…and write in ink. If I made a mistake, I would scrap it and start over again as many times as I needed to get it right, I went through massive amounts of paper. I would send it off and wait. Forever. Now we can type and choose fonts, add, delete, choose different words, cut and paste--check carefully-- and when satisfied, press enter and our letters are received immediately.

My mind was busy today thinking about the beautiful world we share; and the technology that makes it easier to share my part of the world with friends and family—and even people in my community. I took the above picture from my deck at 6am this morning; it was posted to Facebook and around the world before the sun had completely raised its' tousled head above the horizon.

Indeed this world--my world--where I live, love, breathe and share my heart, is an inhabited garden. There is the poignant silence of those who have graced my life with their love and friendship, but have moved on to eternity; and the delight of those who walk with me now. As we make our way around the moon tonight, and in turn take our rest, please know that I am thankful to God for those of you who choose to share my world--with love, Annie

It's About Time

It’s About Time

I am packed and almost ready to leave on my trip—a brief stop-over in Germany and nine days in England. Someone asked me two weeks ago, how long I have wanted to go to England. My reply was, ever since I could hold a Beatrix Potter book in my hand. I have had a couple of friends say, ‘Then it is about time’.

I was too little to know England was another country, or indeed what that meant. I just knew I wanted to go to this place where the greenest grass grew and stone fences were. The talking animals that dressed and lived in miniature houses appealed to me too, but somehow, if I am looking for them, I am thinking I may be disappointed.

I remember at Christmas when I was very little—the Queen’s address and the music that would play over the TV, and the pictures of London that went with it.

Over the years my picture of England has grown. My Father’s family came from England and my Mother’s family from Scotland --both in the early 1900’s, so there is also an appeal to go back to my ancestral roots.

It is still the countryside that appeals to me—the stone walls, and castles--cobblestone streets. It would be interesting to walk these streets and hear the whispered history of the people who walked them centuries ago. What did they think, or feel. What was their story.

My story is—I have always wanted to go to England, and my sense of urgency has increased the last twelve years. One of my dearest friends lives there, and I have missed her deeply. I can’t wait to see her again and finally meet her family.

As I sit here calmly sipping on my morning coffee, I realize it is about time for me to finish getting ready, because in an hour,  it will be about time  for Cheryl  to pick me up…..and I know from my driveway to Europe and back--we are going to have the time of our lives!!!

Blessed---Again....

(So I wrote this blog several months ago to share how rich and BLESSED my life has been with friends from my childhood as well as friends I have made along the way--some of whom are family as well...friends who now live a distance away..and friends new and old that I have gotten to know long distance, but have never had the joy and privilege of meeting.

On Thursday, I leave for England. Anyone who knows me knows how much I have wanted to see England--since I could hold Beatrix Potter books in my chubby hands. Not only do I get to see England, but I get to meet my friend from 25 years ago--and his family in Germany, new friends in Derby, England, as well as visit with my friend Annette and her family in North Yorkshire, England...and the  cherry on top is--I get to take this trip with one of my favorite troublemakers.  

I thought this trip MIGHT come in the next three years, but thanks to my whacked out 'cousin-friend 'Cheryl, we have been planning the trip for just over three weeks---I am beyond excited and thought it might be a good time to revisit this blog)!!!

BLESSED

Never shall I forget the days I spent with you. Continue to be my friend, as you will always find me yours."

~ Ludwig van Beethoven

Blessed….

My earliest friendships would have to be with my sister Donna, and our two cousins, Cheryl and Carol. If Donna and I weren't with them, we were with our neighbors’ daughters Krista and Shelly. These are the friends with whom I played hide-and-seek , picked wild strawberries, swam in the brooks , caught fireflies, talked first crushes and generally got into trouble with—don’t even get me started.

Blessed…..

I have friends from my teenage years who suffered through the agony—mine and theirs—of my crushes on their brothers—they know who they are—I’d like to think their brothers don’t, but since I have always worn my heart on my sleeve and developed a serious stutter, I’m guessing they knew.

Blessed……

My friends Simon and Annette live in England. When I could not travel to their wedding I was still her maid of honor--in absentee. She and her husband honored me, and sent me a gift and a bouquet of flowers like I would have carried at their wedding. During the time of the ceremony I went to a quiet spot looking out over Belleisle Bay and asked God to bless their day and Marriage. I look forward to the day I travel to England to see Annette again and meet for the first time ,my friend Simon and their son, my godson, Harry.

Blessed….

I had a friend call me today from British Columbia. We have had so many good times together, road trips, slept out under the stars in her backyard. We have laughed together—and cried together. We have disagreed occasionally, about her nagging ,(advising), me about my driving. Now we live thousands of miles and four hours apart. Today she called and I listened to her heart breaking. I wish I was closer.

Blessed…

To have new friendships, one with a Mom I work for, and one with a Mom I hope to work for.

Blessed…..

To reconnect with a friend from twenty five years ago, and touched to know I had not been forgotten and that we still thought of each other occasionally.

Blessed, Blessed, Blessed….

The list goes on and on and on…..Friendship does not depend on being in each other’s presence, although it is especially satisfying when your elbows are on the same table. Friendships new and old are the echoes of respect and affection, and memories shared--and the longing to know and be known, whether you are a constant in each others lives, an ocean apart—or haven’t met yet.

Be Blessed……

Once Upon an Autumn Night

“Delicious Autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

― George Eliot

Once Upon an Autumn Night

I am now working as a live-in nanny and after work tonight I contemplated going for a drive--to gather my sanity. I wondered what the point would be as it was almost dark and I wouldn't be able to see much...but I needed a bit of time to myself.

The air had a definite snap to it so I had the heat on low at my feet---but the windows all the way down. Fresh damp earth and fallen leaves mingled together in the gathering darkness to create a pungent bouquet. I could smell the sweetness of fallen fruit in the air—apples and perhaps the tang of forgotten berries that the wildlife will feast on in weeks to come. There was a warm top note of wood smoke that teased my nose as it wisped invitingly from the chimneys of country homes lit up with soft yellow light.

I drove through the back roads with Jimmy Rankin serenading me on my stereo and the lights of my van catching the fading glory of autumns’ colors in low bushes as I passed--bright reds, golds and fiery orange. As I turned corners and passed under the overhang of  trees and out into wide open fields, I topped the rise of a small hill, and the light of a crescent moon, slung low over the horizon, led the way and shone through the dark branches of taller trees that have already dropped most of their leaves.

I bought a diet coke and went and parked by the water---where someone named Zelda gives river adventures in pontoon boats. I turned off the van and took deep breaths of the crisp air……I heard some movement from the water, a few birds trilling in the night air and the faint sound of traffic.

After a while I started my van to drive home and sang along softly with Jimmy and cranked the heat so I could be warm as I got the full joy of my return drive and the smells of autumn’s night.  I felt renewed---I had been hidden from the busyness of humanity—just for a few minutes—which was just long enough to reclaim my peace and be fresh for the little ones tomorrow.

Arrgh!!! Spiders and Life's Other not so Little Anxieties

ARRRGGGHHH!

1. to utter a loud, prolonged, mournful cry

2. to utter a similar cry in distress, pain, fear, etc.; wail.

Yes it IS a word—it is MY word…it is one of the first words in the ‘Dictionary of Dianne’. It is one of those multi-purpose words. It can be used to express many things, from 1.) the sighting of a large hairy spider—2.) my reaction upon hearing my name—Didi, Didi, Didi,—for the fifty-millionth time in one day—3.) or the complete horror of running out of coffee….and on and on.

There are also various spellings of this word, the length of the spelling depending on the level of frustration, fright or angst. For instance— spotting a spider on the floor, (short—few letters), to the sighting of a large hairy spider on one’s person, (medium---more letters), to my sister Donna sighting a large hairy spider anywhere in her line of vision, in which case it would be a very long spelling of the word in CAPITALS and the strangled scream accompanying it would pierce the sound barrier.

.....I have always protected her from them. It was almost a full time job from the time we were children until she got married. Now her husband Stephen is her defender. I will always stand ready, as second in demand to shield her person and sanity against these beasts of eight legs and almost as many eyes—(seriously, the eight legs could come in handy, but who needs more than two eyes, unless you are up to no good. Sorry, I digress)……

Today I am using the word long and loud to articulate—inarticulately—my frustration! I am moving WHO knows where in two months to work as a Nanny for WHO knows who—and I don’t know HOW or WHERE to start sorting and packing, what to take with me, what to sell, what to give away or what to throw out.

AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!

I completely emptied my bedroom closet weeks ago thinking it would spur me into action—not so. It sits in a big messy pile on the floor, taunting me when I go to bed at night and when I get up in the morning. I hate chaos and I especially hate sleeping in chaos—(it doesn’t matter that I sleep with my eyes closed—I know it is there, I can feel it, and last night I am almost certain I heard it breathing, taking on a life of it’s own).

Thankfully I did sort through the bulk of it last Fall—refer to the Blog, ‘The Letter D’—that started it all,---the Blog and the massive cleaning out. I got rid of things I felt I would never use, now I need to sort through things that I would like to keep, but due to practicalities I cannot take with me---and really they are just things. I am looking forward to a grand adventure, finishing my schoolwork and exploring new horizons.

The last two weeks, I have been wondering WHERE to start packing or WHAT…so what are life’s essentials? I am not packing coffee. Wherever I go? If there is no coffee—I ain’t going. And yes---ain’t is a word in MY dictionary too—it is the inarticulate word for the phrase—‘am not’—dripping with the attitude of will not and cannot--make me go where there is no coffee.

So no need to pack coffee, but I will take a few of my favorite coffee mugs, my perfume, my Bible, books, music, pictures, a few favorite things that portray my uniqueness, my make-up, and……oh yes---my clothes---(they are not necessarily listed in order of importance). I can’t pack most of this stuff yet, because I will be using it. Last night I was wandering through the living room wondering where to start and my eyes landed on my bookshelf---I could start here. Let’s see--top shelves—school books. There is my beginning. Pack my school books and carefully label, because I am hoping I will need those right away in the Fall. Seems simple right? Now I have my beginning and once I have the first box packed it will keep me moving until I…well…MOVE.

As for the other burning questions of—WHO knows where I am going, and, WHO knows who I will work for? I know WHO knows and that is all that matters. God knows. As I pack and get ready for life’s new adventure, I am trusting Him to lead. I have seen the verse below posted on Facebook at least twice in the last few weeks. Although it was written specifically for the children of Israel and their situation at the time…thousands of years later I can take the same verse and apply it to my life and situation today. Because God loves me too.

Jeremiah 29:11

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Indeed God is blessing me--I have a wonderful family to work with--one I have worked with the last two years--They have three great kids--we live in the forest--and they treat me like I am worth my weight in gold..:D  That's pretty hard to beat!!

I Love You Too........

Charlotte 1999

I Love You Too…….

So if you read my previous blog entitled “I Love You”—you will remember that I was sixteen when I first learned to stammer it. I am careful to express to the people in my life, my love and the joy knowing them gives me---whether it is with ‘I love you’, or thanking them for their time, because, really when life is over and done with—relationships with God, family, friends, (and if you are blessed to have a significant other), are really all that matter.

I have always told the children I take care of that I love them; I try to show them in different ways---I encourage them when they do well or when they try harder when they are struggling. I show them with hugs and kisses, and by choosing to spend time with them. I enjoy their company. I show my love and respect by apologizing when I need to…..and I have always been careful to assure them of my love even when it is necessary to discipline them.

Sometimes the responses to, ‘I love you’….are interesting, funny, and enlightening.

One young boy would get this funny look on his face when I told him I loved him, he was comfortable with me and returned my hugs warmly, but sensing he was uncomfortable with ‘I love you,’ I asked him if I should stop saying it. He replied. ’No, I just don’t know what to say’. I told him he could say whatever he wanted—he didn’t have to tell me he loved me, he could say thank-you, or nothing at all, that I was okay with that, but sometimes I just needed to tell him what he meant to me. When I asked him if that sounded reasonable, he smiled and said he thought that would be okay—and it was.

A little girl I took care of years ago in Calgary, was annoying her older brother and his friends by ‘directing’ them in how they should play, (actually we had another name for it, but I am trying to be sensitive, because they will probably read this). Exasperated, Steve came in the house and asked me to sort it out. So I called Sandra in and explained the importance of being respectful toward her brother and his friends, and was quite firm about the possible consequences if she didn't. She was quite miffed at her brother for telling on her, and as she was leaving to go back outside I felt it prudent to remind her to not slam the door as she was leaving.

I said, ‘Sanny’…….

‘Yeah, Yeah’, she said, ‘I know, I know….you love me even when you are mad at me.

SLAM ....went the door. I did not appreciate the echo in my head, but I was amused at her assumption, and pleased, that she understood I loved her even when I had to be firm with her.

In 1999, I was living in Montreal and taking care of Charlotte and her sisters Marion and Juliette. Charlotte and I were in the kitchen doing something together and I don’t remember what it was she did as she walked from the room, but it delighted me -- and I told her I loved her. She stopped, turned around and with a big smile and with quiet sincerity said, ‘I know’.

Her words kind of stunned me, more so than if she had replied with ‘I love you too’. It was the way she said it—there was no doubt in that child’s mind that I loved her. Love is ALWAYS a gift—but that day Charlotte taught me that to know that someone has confidence in my love is a gift too.

A Constant Life

One of my earliest memories is of being in the living room pretending to fly as I jumped from the furniture. I am probably younger than four. I can hear Mom in the kitchen singing as she does the laundry. I can smell the laundry soap and bleach and hear the rhythm of the old washing machine beating the laundry clean. (I can smell molasses cookies baking too, but when I told Mom about this memory years ago she said it would not have been the same day).

This is the strongest memory of my Mom? Surely I loved my mother for more than doing laundry and making cookies? Then I realized--whether she was doing laundry, baking cookies, finding a jam jar for the hundredth bouquet of limp dandelions, or holding the bucket while I was sick—she was a constant presence. It is her presence that is the memory. 

When she died it was painful. Who do you turn to when the one you have always turned to is gone? In the first few months I would reach for the phone to ask or tell her something. When I drove home on the weekend and walked through the door—my heart would strain to hear her footsteps in the kitchen or her voice calling out hello. I missed the warmth of her touch.

When people came to visit and offer sympathy to the family---everyone said the same things about her-- whether they knew her as Sister, Aunt, Friend, Neighbor, Jean, Jean-the-bean, or Mrs Ness. They spoke of her kindness and patience, her gentle spirit and laughed about that little bit of mischief in her. Even Dad as her husband and we as her children and grandchildren knew her the same way. All of these relationships were very different, but her character was obvious and constant throughout. What a blessing that was to me.

It has been eight years since Mom died. After the grief lifted I realized she is still with me. She is with me in the memory of her love. She is here in the smiles of family and friends, as we remember. As her life was constant, so is her memory.

Evermore--Edward Shanklin Ness, May 21 1930-September 2nd 2009

All my life, Sunday morning had its own sounds. My Father would be up early and usually the first sounds we heard were of him rattling the lids on the old woodstove as he lit it. He would always listen to an old time preacher named Perry Rockwood on the radio. The fragrant smell of coffee and bacon would fill the house and he would ‘sing’ along with a hymn or two as he made his breakfast. After Perry Rockwood was done—he might listen to another radio show, or there would be silence as he read his Bible and prayed.

Three years ago on Sunday, August 30^th, I came down the stairs, the house was cool, silent---none of the Sunday morning sounds or smells. Dad had been ill and laying in the hospital for three weeks. As I sat there in the silence with an aching heart, I wrote this poem.

EVERMORE

The chair by the fire sits empty

Ashes are low and gray

Sunday’s dawned full of silence

We wait, we trust, we pray

Dad taught us to love, work and respect

But the best of what he gave

Was the knowledge of God, the need of our soul

He taught us that Jesus saves

Dear God—with you we watch over Dad

Trusting you--we wait your will

We will stir the flames of the home fire

And keep it burning ‘til—

--We join You and Dad and Mom someday

At heaven’s blessed door

Where love and faith meet eternity

We’ll be joined for Evermore

---Dianne—August 30 2009

Three days later Dad went home to heaven, our hearts were heavy with the loss –but we rejoiced that Dad’s faith had been finally and completely realized—he had joined Mom in heaven and they were both home with the One who loved them best and most