Oh, Dandelions...

   
  "One man's trash is another man's treasure." How about, "One man's weed is another man's flower?" Certainly, this is the case of Dandelions. An enemy to many in Suburbia, here in the country we are overrun--and so accept them with as much of a Polyanna attitude as possible. Early settlers came up with Dandelion wine and Dandelion tea. The young leaves can be thrown into salads. But better yet, and far more "palatable," are the joys of seeing our children play in them, the bouquets happily presented to Mom, and the look of wonder on a toddler's face when the puffy white head of seeds is blown.


     I asked Marie, 16, as I went out the door with her brothers to school, to write a poem about Dandelions. An Expository Writing assignment! She didn't hesitate or balk but asked, "What type?" I gave her no limits--whatever came to her head. Thirty minutes later, I was home and given the following:

“The First Dandelion”　

The sun once grew ill

sickly and pale

It’s warmth began to wane

It’s power began to fail

No other stars were near enough

To see the orb’s distress

Only the moon saw it’s plight

For she knew him best

She knew what caused his ailment

The sun was all alone

No one ever smiled back at him

All sought shade when he shone

So the moon, one spring night

Called together the winds, four

She coaxed them with silver words

She begged them to soar

And through that night

Those winds; how they flew

They gathered ingredients

As the moon had bade them to

And the next morning

When the sun rose high

Imagine his surprise

As he opened his yellow eye

His rays began to spread

The sun stopped his crying

For beaming back at him

Was the first, gold, dandelion

And if wonder he did

Who’d sent him this bloom

The next day it turned white

White and full like the moon

     Marie! Another joy to add to the Dandelion list.

      I googled "Dandelion" and found a poem on a blog called "Wordlust: Pandering to Your Inner Linquist." It is humorously presented as a battle:

http://memphiswordnerd.blogspot.com/2007/11/dandelions-by-deborah-austin-thank-you.html

Suzy (and Marie),

The Abbey Farm

Banquets and Clubhouses

     Today, Bruce took our six daughters to the annual Father-Daughter Banquet. The theme was: "A Girl Worth Fighting For." Bruce and Emily were the guest speakers. We joked earlier that they should work-in a skit from the movie "Mulan," where the father tells Mulan that she is the greatest gift he could ever have. They prepared something different, and special.

     Bruce texted me some pictures from the banquet. I thought to myself that there should be more "Mother-Son" events. There used to be a Mother-Son Pancake Breakfast and Max and I went to it long ago.

     Here are some of the pictures from Bruce, and then a few of the boys on the farm. We made our own event: "Mother-Son Clubhouse." I'd forgotten that clubhouses and forts could be as much fun as banquets...

God Bless!

Suzy

The Abbey Farm

Looking Up

    
     I watched the Pixar movie "Up" the other morning with Jim, Margaret and Marie. The opening scene was so very moving. I was not expecting it, though Bruce told me long ago that I would love it, and that I'd cry. I did tear up. It was good on so many levels--humor, animation, artistry, and the priorities in our lives.

     The opening scene was a montage of eight decades of "Carl and Ellie's" life together; it was precious. Eighty years seemed so short. Life is, really. The present is here for only a moment and then it is a memory. Good moments and tragic moments follow the same rules of time. I reminisce often about my life, my childhood, my adolescence, the sad ending of my first marriage, my life with Bob, our two daughters and the earth-shaking loss of him, of meeting and falling in love with Bruce, our marriage, our family. Someday I won't be here and all those memories will be gone, save for what I have shared with my children.

Me, ten years old, at the Bowerman's

     In the movie, Ellie keeps a scrapbook. I won’t let on about any more, but since watching it I have felt a greater thankfulness for my life, it's past, and it's present with Bruce and our children. In the busy-ness of activities and schedules and "Time Maps" I can lose focus on what is important. I'll never get it perfect, but I'll keep trying.

     Before we knew that Bob's father had Alzheimer's, "Pop" remarked about an elderly man who was increasingly feeble and decreasingly productive. He felt sorry for the gentleman, who had been a college professor with a PhD in Molecular Biology and Botany, and could not imagine how hard it would be. He joked about what we should do if it ever happened to him.

     Pop was still living at home when he lost his only son. He had Alzheimer's and was seldom lucid anymore.  His wife, beloved "Grammy," was distraught and had a hard time with helping me make the decision about an autopsy. Her son had died so suddenly and it was very difficult. Pop took the phone and in one of his last truly lucid moments that I remember, gently and lovingly counseled me to have it done. "You have to know for the children, and it's OK with us. We love you."

     Pop has passed away. He lived such a humble yet rich life. Much of it we know from our time with him, his stories and scrapbooks like Ellie’s. I know there was so much more. I know that in myself there are profound things I have seen and experienced that no other soul knows. Will all of that just drift away into nothingness when I die?  I am convinced that it will not.  I believe that we are here by the hand of a loving Creator who knows us more than we know ourselves. All that we are is because of Him and is known by Him. All that we have experienced will always be with Him. I trust Him.

  

St. Ignatius of Loyola prayed a beautiful prayer:

     "Take, O Lord, and receive my entire liberty, my memory, my understanding and my whole will. All that I am and all that I possess You have given me: I surrender it all to You to be disposed of according to Your will. Give me only Your love and Your grace; with these I will be rich enough, and will desire nothing more."



St. Ignatius of Loyola

 

      I lifted up Margaret after a long afternoon walk yesterday. I looked up with her at the blue sky as we passed our house and the cross on top of the cupola. I hugged her and kissed her for the hundredth time that day, amazed that I could love her so much and that I could be so blessed, even in this old body, with the experience of giving her life and watching her grow. I may be older and weaker, but His love and grace have made me full. My cup truly runs over.

The movie inspired me--to look “Up.”

God bless,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm