This Old House

This Old House

 

"This old house once knew my children
This old house once knew my wife
This old house was home and shelter as we fought the storms of life
This old house once rang with laughter
This old house heard many shouts
Now she trembles in the darkness when the lightnin' walks about"

                                                ...Stuart Hamblen, 1954

 

These nostalgic lyrics have been going around in my head for a long time now, and have become more poignant with the recent sale of our family home on the Rideau River.  It is the inevitable decision that more and more of us boomers are having to make: Our old house had certainly held on as long as it could, thanks to the heroic efforts of my sister and brother, and as it packed its bags to say goodbye, it delayed its departure for more year to give our family time to pick out some mementos and take a few more looks at the beautiful view down the river.  

Memories come flooding back of games of hide-and-seek out of doors until it was too dark to see anymore; of late night swims in the heat of summer to cool us off so we could sleep, of endless sing-a-longs and parties and sharing; of heading to the garden with Dad - a slice of bread in hand for a fresh green onion sandwich, of walks down the road to the one-room schoolhouse, to Rideau Valley Inn, Margaret Kelly's raspberry patch, and to all of the childhood haunts that remain engraved in my heart.

If houses absorb spirits, then that old house was certainly spirit filled.  It was the great Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, and Tooth Fairy secret keeper, guardian of the many whispers of untold prayers from Mom & Dad and all  of us children alike, and the forbearing audience for all of our crazy antics and play acting.  I'm sure it must have closed its eyes and grimaced as it silently endured the graffiti and the countless blows that we kids in our exuberance, inflicted on its walls and  floors. 

As I reflect on all of the love that is our parents legacy, and of the house that contained so much of it, I am reminded of Aunt Mamie's words of wisdom: "Make beautiful memories" - They form a foundation that will last forever - like the one that held up our old house.

Finding Holy Ground

Finding Holy Ground

 I walked by the Odd Fellows Hall on Henry street yesterday, and I found myself thinking: ‘I wonder where the Even Fellows get together, and whether they’d be at odds with the Odd Fellows or whether they’d all actually be striving for the same things?’

Here in Prescott, there are so many beautiful buildings that house faith and community groups, and I watch sincere people going in and out – their purpose being to find God and to get some direction and support amidst all of the turmoil that life throws at us; and to share with others the joy that fills us when happy and exciting things come into our lives.  Each of these institutions is striving to contribute hope and help to the people that congregate there - and to reach out to help the broader community in need.

Further along on my walk, I looked around and there was my creative muse reaching for my arm.  She had been paying attention to the view as well, and as I welcomed her to speak up, the following was her take – or give, on my thoughts:

 

I’ve paused on a roadside

            In the absence of sound,
            And felt God’s presence,
            Perfect, profound;
            In that moment of peace,
            Respect, Holy ground.           
            Whether we worship
            ‘Neath steeple or dome,
            A star-studded sky,
            Or a space all our own,
            Love is the mortar
            That builds up God’s home.

On life’s walk, we take baby steps toward a Father who is absolutely in love with us: He puts out His arms and beckons us to take our first steps, then another and another as he encourages us, picks us up when we falter, and praises our efforts, until at the end of our journey, we reach holy ground  – We let go and jump into His embrace.
 

“This is what God asks of you:  To act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with your God.”  Micah 6:8

Off With Her Hat!

 

Life is a highway,

Crossing hills and streams,

But it’s often on a detour

That we realize our dreams.

 

On the highway, there is loud noise, fast decisions to be made, and frustration at slow or reckless drivers - so much impatience for the sake of a one-to-five minute interval of time, saved or lost.  We are all fellow travelers on life's highway, each in need of and deserving of, a hearty dose of  B.O.D. (benefit of the doubt).

Lately, my head has been longing for quiet drives down beautiful country roads and lanes, where nothing is asked but just to let go, throw off the hat and to slow down and breathe. 

 ‘Take me home, country roads, to the place I belong'.   John Denver has been gone 15 years but I find myself right back where I belong every time I turn on his music and listen to his thoughtful lyrics.  Many times it's the stereo in my head playing, and that amazing sound system doesn't drain any power source; it just seems to replace negatives and add positive charges - How good is that?!  (love this 'Jane expression'!)

So, when one of  life's detours off of its busy highway comes along, the delay  may initially be frustrating but, given time, we may hear its voice speaking or singing in a calm reassuring manner:  ‘Why not have a look around since we’re now committed to each other?’

A highway is not always the surest, and certainly not the most peaceful way to a destination - and we occasionally need to follow our heart's GPS: perhaps a trip down a beautiful old side road is actually the route we were looking for all along.  As I fly (make that flutter) along on life’s bi-ways, letting my hat fly off,  that cool, peaceful breeze of tolerance feels wonderfully refreshing!

Be Not Afraid - You Are A Masterpiecer!

 

What is a masterpiece?  It takes a healthy mix of humility and courage to walk towards your life's fulfillment; to go where you have yet to go, to create your own unique, imperfect masterpieces.

Perhaps we need to pay more attention to the example that the lowly weed sets:  Weeds are actually unique, and when closely looked at, very intricate masterpieces.  There is no way that any of us can create that same piece of outstanding artistry.   The problem is that they dare to pop up in spaces that do not welcome or encourage them.

  If they had a society for abused weeds -  ‘unwanted’ plants - what would their complaints be?  “Help – We’re being stepped on, our feet chopped off, pulled by the hair, and spoken to quite rudely!  We thought our contribution would be appreciated but, clearly, grass is the only genus welcome."  In our finite human wisdom, we condescendingly insist on helping Mother Nature to correct her obvious errors.

The weeds know better - They are trying to tell us that our soil is actually ideal for them, that poor ‘monsieur grass’ is the one struggling to grow in the wrong spot.   Perhaps I'll stop stressing about not having perfect green carpeting everywhere out there; The patch of wild strawberries that showed up last summer in our back yard, together with bits of moss, are confirming the fact that the soil in that area is acidic – not the best soil for growing a lush lawn, but perfect for wild strawberries, and sorrel (tart but yummy on a cheese sandwich!), in other words, an edible lawn! That is just fine with me; I’m in no hurry to correct that mistake. 

In this larger garden that makes up my life, I'll try to nourish my soil with plenty of that healthy humility-courage mix, and I'll keep the phone number for the Master Gardener handy for those times when my garden becomes muddled, when  my confidence becomes choked out by fear.  I'll try to picture successes as I’m making my inevitable mistakes, and I hope that some day I will look back and, lo and behold, there will be a long lineup of sparkling efforts - an imperfect but beautiful path that others may follow,  learn from, and  improve on. 

I’ll just make sure I sprinkle lots of smile seeds as I go, that I speak kindly to the plants, and that I  try not to correct all of my mistakes too quickly - I may be overlooking some real masterpieces! 

 Oh look - There's another dandelion, and another, and another, and an......  Peace!

Baby Pictures!

How do you make a baby smile?  The things we are willing to get down and do is actually pretty awesome!  Suddenly, the makeup, hair and clothes are totally not an issue.  It’s all in the face and body language – and the number of ways that you can express yourself in ‘goo goo’ talk!  Our eyes are never brighter or wider; our smile is never more honest or engaging; and our play-acting is downright inspiring!  Did I mention that there is no better workout – for the heart, the body, or the soul?  There is also no way that you can fail the language exam!  If fact, the more mistakes you make, and the sillier your sounds become, the higher your reaction score gets!  It’s too bad that we can’t put our cameras in the hands of babies.  What amazing pictures they would take.  They are experts in bringing out the best in us.  We would all be surprised at the way that our love and laughter transforms our faces!  Suddenly, there is that little child again – shining through our wrinkles and crinkles – smiling and laughing, unaware of the depth of beauty that the baby saw. 

Next event: 36th Annual Artisan't Show & Sale - Prescott, ON

NOV. 16^th -  9:00a.m. to 4:00 p.m.  -   36^th Annual Arts & Crafts Show & Sale

      South Grenville District High School – 1000 Edward St. N., Prescott, ON

225 tables – Free parking – Free babysitting – lots of door prizes – canteens

Should be an amazing sale – I’ll be there with my books and artwork.

This event and so many other similar ones give us a glimpse of the amazing pool of talent that exists in our communities.  It is a chance for all of us artists and artisans to offer to the world our best works.  It is not just an opportunity to gain financial reward for our efforts, but it is also a chance to dip into that precious pool of encouragement and compliments that comes from those viewing our works.  Hats off to all of the vendors!

Next Stop: 'Zoomerland'!

Next stop: ‘Zoomerland’!

I’m taking a good look at what happened during my trip through ‘Boomerland’ - that magical place where this life of mine was planted, filled with beautiful, powerful, and sometimes frightening ‘booms’ that have challenged me to accept who I am.  When I wake up each morning, (after I take a few deep breaths and coax my eyes into staying open this time for sure!) it is with the realization that I am a very small piece of a very complicated puzzle.  I offer up a prayer that whatever I am and can do, will help to make this world a better place, and I ask for help in overcoming whatever fears keep me from doing that.

 I step out of bed, hit my toe on a table, and boom! all of that positive vibe has moved aside to make way for a false set of priorities, carried in by my unwanted shadow, the worry bug: ‘Oh Lord, I need to vacuum the house, clean the windows, dust the piano and cover it back up again (We’re still in house painting mode), rake the leaves, and paint something!’  My heart tries to break into the conversation: “Ahem, perhaps you could go for a walk, do some writing, work on your next book, try some sketching, practice your guitar or jump into those leaves!?”  These are all things that might distract the worry bug and get him to lighten up - He’s such a serious fellow!

In the end, we are who we are, with all of our unique imperfections, but also with the immense potential that resides within us, waiting to be asked to come forward.  We are largely unknown to ourselves; the face that we see in the mirror each morning hides behind it someone unique that wants to meet us and be included in our day.  What do we do?   Cover it up with makeup of various kinds, and give it nasty looks as we ignore its hopeful gaze, and try to form it into some version of ourselves that we think is expected or will be accepted by the world out there. 

Perhaps this next trip into ‘Zoomerland’ will allow us to relax and grow in charming ways - like a weathered barn, a fragile little shed, or a mature graceful tree - more beautiful with age.  In my third children’s book “How To Stretch A Puddle”,  I included a poem called “The Mighty Little” and it asks the question:  ‘How could something once so small become a tree so big and tall; It looked around just glad to be, It didn’t know it was a tree.”   Never underestimate your inner strength, your potential or your Zoom!