August 2021 Recap

August has been an exhausting month. Lots going on emotionally. I've already written about the opportunities we had to celebrate our 31st anniversary. We didn't fathom, at the time, the true blessing. 

Besides our anniversary, my parents were due to celebrate their 60th anniversary in the middle of the month. Thus, my siblings and I tried to come up with an appropriate gift for such a significant achievement. My dad had talked about renting an RV and bringing my mom to visit each of us in our respective states. Despite his hunger to see all of us, it was a dangerous plan (given their recent health issues and my mom's dementia) and we prayed he would abandon the idea. In the end, we settled on a company that makes tribute videos for special occasions. 

It should have been an easy and effective idea. Not so! We dithered about who should start and supervise the project. I only balked because I'm horrible with technology, but every other sibling is far busier than me. My sister took charge. Then, despite almost daily reminders, participants held off on sending in videos, right up to the deadline. The actual recording was as easy as opening their email, hitting record, deciding if you wanted to keep or redo, then clicking on done. Even a technological moron, like me, could easily handle that. I submitted four brief videos - the first, a greeting from John and me with Sean and Toby (revealing Sean's height as a 6 foot 14-year-old); the second, of Trevor showing off his convertible; the third, riding in the back of the convertible as Trevor drove; and the fourth, showing my mom my book room (I know she would have loved it when in her normal mind). We didn't make the deadline, and they didn't receive the video on their anniversary.

My sister tried to make it special by sending balloons, banners, and a Giordano's pizza (one of their favorites), but I think that celebration triggered more difficulties for my mom. Their day held a load of chaos, and I don't think they enjoyed the celebration. I tried to call, but heard them battling another disturbing escape attempt (my mom is desperate to visit her parents and my dad, instead of following the "dementia rules," insists on giving her the truth). Between mom's hospital visit for a fractured spine and dad's cancer scares and knee injections, they had their own challenging August.

In the meantime, my mother-in-law anticipated her trip to Texas to meet her first great-grandbaby. They decided that John's older brother Rick would accompany her. They arrived on Monday, August 16th, and had a wonderful dinner together with John's sister and husband, Martha and Phil, Martha's daughter and son-in-law, Sarah and Saul, and the baby of honor, Sophie. Martha sent this adorable photo of mom holding Sophie:

On August 17th, they headed to Las Cruces, NM, to enjoy lunch out. They were all walking from the vehicles to the restaurant (Martha, a nurse, walking behind my mother-in-law) when my mother-in-law slumped to the ground. Martha caught her fall and began CPR, but she died in an instant.

It was so sudden and unexpected. Many might say, "but she was 92!" Still, she was in perfect health. Indeed, she proudly relayed the doctor's words from her recent appointment: "you're healthier than people half your age." Not a thing wrong with her. Her knees gave her trouble, but no heart issues or high blood pressure. One minute she was walking along, enjoying her family, and the next she was meeting her Maker.

Despite our shock and grief, there are so many reasons for gratitude. She didn't die alone. Family surrounded her. She didn't experience pain. There and then, gone. She had just visited with many of us: the Texas family, Rick, our visit in early August, her granddaughter in Illinois, who had lunch with her every week. We didn't visit her often enough, but visited in a tent with her at Thanksgiving. Plus, she had spent a delightful Christmas with our family, and then another visit when Bryce came in May. I'm grateful we included her. For each visit, I experienced hesitations (at Christmas, because I didn't want to share my family gift opening time - yet my prayers were answered as she felt included and I didn't mind at all; in May, because I wanted Bryce all to ourselves - yes, I'm selfish, like that).

The timing was also an ironic blessing. We have been attempting to sell some of the family property but have hit snag after snag. Extensive presentations met with rejections by the town council. John has put in hundreds of hours on this process, all to no avail. My mother-in-law loathed the sale of the property. It brought her to tears. She had hoped and prayed that it wouldn't sell until she died. The very day she left us, the town council finally approved a proposal. Now the details of the land sale have given way to the many details that come after a death. The family asked us to write her obituary. I've never written an obituary. 

I snagged this excellent FB photo of my mother-in-law, taken at her church the day after our August visit with her. Trevor replaced the distracting background with a neutral one. She was an extremely generous lady. Right until her death, she worked as a volunteer at the Daily Bread soup kitchen. She baked cookies to share with the men from the Salvation Army shelter. Her time, talents, and money, always spent in helping others. She never made you feel like anything was an imposition. For example, in April I found a beautiful sweater on clearance but it was too big. I bought it anyway (only a buck) and asked if she would alter it to fit me. She took it with her and had it ready for me when we visited her on August 7th. Whenever I wear it, I will smile and think of her.

Trevor experienced car issues in August. While driving home from his girlfriend's house, a fox ran alongside his car and then darted in front of him. With another car approaching, he couldn't swerve to miss impact. Here is the state of his car now:

Not long after that, the rear brake pads had to be replaced. Ugh!

August is ending on a pleasant note, though. Bryce had made plans to visit and attend one of Sean's football games for the last weekend in August. It was a real treat to have him home, even if only for a little over 50 hours. The game was a nail-biter. First the other team was up; then we scored but failed at the two-point-conversion. Then, each side managed another two touchdowns. At one point, they called Sean's name as having recovered a fumble (he later said he was merely on the pile). With only 4 minutes left in the game, our team pulled ahead. But the other team snuck in a long run, placing them ten yards from their goal with only seconds on the clock. Thankfully, we held them and our team won.

I'm so grateful that the coaches pray with the players. Few schools do that anymore. This is a photo (again from FB) after Friday night's game:

I took my own photo of Sean with Bryce, we returned home so Sean could clean up, and we all went out for lunch. Each of the boys headed off to gather with friends. John and I spent Saturday night watching the last installment of The Library Thief (a Swedish series, based on a true story, available on Hoopla) - a show I recommend, despite one compromising scene and a depressing ending. Very well done! Such a clear sign of what happens when a soul succumbs to greed and ambition.

We're still dealing with the fall-out of August 2021, but thankful for God's grace in the midst of it all.

Book Review: The Lost Words

What a gorgeous and gigantic, lovely and lyrical children's book! I never expected the book to be 11x15 inches tall. When the librarian handed The Lost Words to me through my truck window (for curbside pickup - am I the only one still using this brilliant pandemic provision?), I was overwhelmed. Delightful poetry and watercolor illustrations fill each page. But the story behind the book is as intriguing as the story within the book.

Apparently, at the release of the new Oxford Junior Dictionary, someone noticed a series of nature words left out because of disuse by children. Are children seriously not talking about otters and herons, acorns and dandelions? What a pity! The forty "lost words" give way to more technological terms, like "blog" and "bullet-point," "cut-and-paste," and "voice-mail." It makes one ask, is this "a powerful sign of the growing gulf between childhood and the natural world"?

Each poem is in acrostic form. Some use rhyme; some dance across the page with alliteration. My favorite ones? "Dandelion," "Heather," "Newt," "Otter," and "Willow." Macfarlane uses words that sound like the image created. So, the otter poem splashes and jaunts just like the otter does and the willow poem weaves and waves just like the willow. Beautiful!

Teachers will appreciate a resource at www.johnmuirtrust.org/initiatives/the-lost-words

Book Review: The Good Husband of Zebra Drive

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series is delightful. I love the colorful characters, the intriguing cases, and the exotic locale. Even though I've had no desire to travel to Botswana, I love immersing myself in the country through this author's eyes. And who better to observe and comment on Botswana than protagonist Precious Ramotswe. I agree with the San Francisco Chronicle assessment on the back cover:

"The warm humanity infused throughout [these] novels is what brings readers back... There is simplicity and lyricism in [the] language that brings out the profound importance of everyday revelations."

In The Good Husband of Zebra Drive, Mma Ramotswe's husband asks to take on a case. After all, why should the women have all the fun? At the same time, one of the apprentices, Charlie, aspires to create his own taxi business using the No. 1 Ladies' moniker because he intends to attract lady clients. Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi both tackle their own cases. With everyone busy, what could possibly go wrong?

This title proves why listening to the audiobooks is beneficial. As an American, I'm tempted to pronounce the title with a hard "e" in Zebra. But, like the British, with their "zebra crossings" (crosswalks), it calls for a soft "e." Lisette Lecat's voice rings in my ear whenever I think of the characters and locations in these books. I'm so pleased she continues to provide the narration. You can experience an audible sample if you click here and then click on the audible sample button.

Book Review: The Hobbit

Sean started out his summer re-reading the Harry Potter series (for the umpteenth time). A month before school resumed, I caught him back with book one again. Incredulously, he was re-reading the series, yet again. Desperate for him to move on to something else, I brought home three options I felt sure he'd enjoy. I suggested Craig Silvey's Jasper Jones (despite the foul language, a riveting tale with boy appeal), Patrick Ness' The Knife of Never Letting Go (one I'd happily re-read, although perhaps not a dozen times in Sean's fashion), and J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. For two of these, I promised the opportunity to watch the movie once finished. Since I was hoping he'd go for the final option, I secured the audio version for myself.

I read this as a teenager, but haven't picked it up since. Although it was a delight to listen to Rob Inglis' narration, I did stumble upon a few videos showing a more recent rendering by Andy Serkis. Talk about intense reading! My long-standing memory from my personal reading was the Gollum's repetition of "my precious" in the passage of riddles between the hobbit and Gollum (rendered here by Andy Serkis).

Is there anyone who doesn't know what The Hobbit is about? The wizard Gandalf interrupts Bilbo Baggins in his hobbit-hole and invites him on a quest, accompanied by over a dozen dwarves. After reluctantly agreeing, Bilbo finds himself in Gollum's murky quarters and happens upon a magic ring. Throughout the adventure, he proves his worth again and again. With elves, wolves, bears, eagles, and dragons afoot, Bilbo uses his wits and his magic ring to get them out of scrapes and closer to the dragon's hoard of riches.

Although fantasy is not my first choice in fictional fare, I did enjoy Tolkien's rich narrative skill. I'm even eager to continue on to The Lord of the Rings trilogy, since I never persisted with that before. I believe I've already watched all the movies, but if I can finagle Sean into finishing this read, I will watch The Hobbit with him and encourage him to read the trilogy, as well.

Book Review: The Addiction Inoculation

If you could addiction-proof your children with a shot (as the title metaphorically suggests), everyone would scramble into the line. Who wouldn't want that secret, the key to keeping your child on the straight and narrow. I doubt a book can possibly prepare parents enough to keep that tragic end from playing out in lives. Still, as resources go, this was a good one! Who better to write it than someone on the other side of alcohol addiction. Jessica Lahey knows addiction, addiction tendencies, genetic predispositions, and all the accompanying baggage. As a teacher and mother, her heart desires the best for kids.

Lahey is a born storyteller. She weaves her own past (and her attempts to protect her sons from that same past) into her outline of best practices for protecting your children from the perils of addiction. Still, I keep coming back to that nay-saying niggle in my mind. Is that even possible? Can the best parental efforts always keep your children from going down that alluring and destructive road? Yet, I agree with her insights. Constant conversation and open discussion about the reality of substance abuse is a must!

I think my favorite part of the book was an exercise she performed with her own sons one night. Based on a television show I'm not familiar with, she and her husband presented ten increasingly intimate questions onto the table. They paired each question with escalating hot sauces. While I could never engage in such an exercise, I jotted down her questions because they were fantastic. I hope to find some way to rope my own sons into answering the questions she posed. The hot sauce would certainly be an alluring way to present it and to loosen their tongues, but they'd have to go that route with their hot-sauce loving father - ha!

For me, I had a few conversations with my youngest son about ways to respond when others offer him alcohol or drugs. He can play the addiction gene card, since his alcoholic uncle took his life in despair over his addiction. I've always told my boys, "you never know... you could be the one who can only take one sip or one toke and be a goner!" He also liked the "I'm allergic to alcohol" excuse. If you are allergic, what a horrendous set of symptoms she listed. Yikes! Whatever the reason, I'm glad he's prepared ahead of time with counter-arguments. 

Book Review: You Are Not Alone

When your child hurts, you hurt. Teenagers, especially, provoke a difficult quandary. They are learning to break away from you in a process of differentiation that has to happen in order to stand on their own two feet. At times, when they struggle, you want to pick them up and soothe them on your lap, wipe away their tears and kiss away their pain. Alas, they are no longer two! Nor do they still believe you have any power to address their needs.

Dena Yohe knows how difficult the road with a hurting teen or young adult can be. Her daughter Renee's difficulties led to the non-profit organization To Write Love on Her Arms. (Apparently, there is also a movie of that name.) Yohe is transparent and authentic in sharing her journey. As the title suggests, she hopes to provide solidarity to her readers. Written from a social worker perspective, she suggests ways to deal with and process the pain. I loved how she incorporated some of her daughter's own words about the experience and I loved how each chapter ended with helpful Scripture passages. Walking alongside a child who is making dangerous and destructive choices can feel lonely and isolating (the fear of judgment is real and pervasive). Yohe reminds parents that God is an "ever-present help in times of trouble." She makes good on her subtitle's promise: Hope for Hurting Parents of Troubled Kids. 

Scaled Down, But Celebrating Nonetheless

Last year, amid the pandemic and prodigal parenting, we ditched plans to visit Mackinac Island to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary. I created a list of 30 small ways to celebrate. Alas, we only tackled a third of them. I wanted to be more intentional about snagging even a small way to get out and celebrate our 31st.

Thankfully, school resumed on the day of our anniversary. We were told on-line schooling was no longer an option this year. Thus, both boys headed off to school for the day, Trevor driving them in his convertible. We packed a picnic lunch and drove to Cataract Falls, Indiana's largest waterfall. Ha! Having been to Niagara Falls a few years back, this "largest waterfall in Indiana" was miniscule. Still, it was lovely and peaceful and we had a fantastic day together.

We explored the upper falls and a graffiti-scarred, covered bridge. I found this very disheartening. Why, oh why, must people feel the need to leave their mark on something of beauty? Various names, dates, and declarations of love marred every inch of the interior walls of that covered bridge. Some misguided individuals even attempted to use this criminal activity to pronounce their faith. Seriously? You write on property that doesn't belong to you, saying Jesus matters?? Even worse, those statements were then altered to say "Satan matters" - ugh! John kept trying to get me to ignore the blights, but I was discouraged by those violations.

The weather was perfect. With a cool breeze and a shady picnic table, we ate without being accosted by too many bees or bugs. Then, placing our trash back in our vehicle (another pet peeve, I won't get started), we headed off on a hike to the lower falls. 

It is amazing how many people ignore signage and do whatever they want. We saw individuals wading with their children in the water, stepping behind prohibiting signs to get closer to the falls, and fishing off the other side of the rock walls (how did the guy get there?).

Still, we had a perfect day of precious time together. After all that invigorating exercise, we returned home, and I took a brief nap. We ended the day, with a date night out to eat.

To cap off our celebrating, we drove to Urbana this past weekend for a brief visit with my mother-in-law. We attended a matinee performance of an amateur play based on the Oz stories, but with a feel of fan-fiction. Our friend, Heidi, did a fantastic job as the music director. It was fun to listen to her accompaniment, to see the ballet portion of the performance, and to hear some songs, anyway. We will have to go back again because our brief catch-up with Heidi in the hall after the performance whet our appetite for a lengthier visit. Given the recent uptick in murder and crime in Indianapolis, we delighted in the opportunity to take in a play in a safer environment. All in all, our celebrations outpaced last year!

Book Review: The Last Bookshop in London

This historical novel will appeal to book lovers everywhere. It is a praise song to the power of books. I thank the Lord for a clean book that celebrates something I adore. Madeline Martin creates a likeable protagonist, places her in a troublesome environment (London during the Blitz of WWII), weaves in a bit of romance, and carries her through to a satisfying conclusion. 

Grace Bennett doesn't start out as a book enthusiast. Yet, through her trial job at Primrose Hill bookshop, she recognizes the light that emanates from literature. Despite the troubles they face daily during the war, civilians in London find escape and enjoyment in Grace's read-aloud sessions. She softens the hardest characters and wins over her neighbors. Indeed, I could do with some entertaining read-alouds myself these days. We may not be in a time of war, but the obstacles we face are just as distressing. Books bring us together. Books allow our minds to wander from the troublesome nature of reality. They provide sanctuary amid storms.

Book Review: Blue Shoes and Happiness

Blue Shoes and Happiness is the 7th novel in Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. I am enjoying my second time around with these delightful novels narrated by the excellent accent and tenor of Lisette Lecat. I noted, on the back cover of this audio book, that Ms. Lecat is also a playwright. Interesting! In this 7th installment, Mma Makutsi wonders why her fiance fails to appear for dinner one night, the traditionally built Mma Ramotswe goes on a diet, and Mr. JLB Matekoni purchases a chair from Phuti Radiphuti. It is interesting to note that I have complained in the past about authors who write out the entire names of characters repeatedly. Somehow, given Lecat's rich narration, this habit thrills me instead of repelling me. Ha! Despite this, and a formulaic tendency, I love this series.