The Wind Is Passing By

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you know I love the sky. As we were headed for school one morning, we saw these interesting clouds to our northwest, filled with wind and looking like wispy white cyclones against the October-blue sky. I would've loved to pull over and get a better shot of them, but as we were running late I handed the camera to my son who shot these out the car window.

Now I'm wishing we would've stopped. Sometimes it's worth it to be a bit late...

Festival Time

This has been an especially busy October with the arrival of my baby niece, Berklee, and many obligations at school, due to being a senior parent. With our football team on the cusp of becoming top in their class and preparations for the school play, there's been precious little time to devote to writing.

One of the highlights of our community during this time has also been a large fall festival. The entire county, as well as alumni from far away, gather to celebrate the open doors of Autumn. This photograph was taken early in the day, when chairs are set up hours before the parade starts to ensure the best seat in town. Once it begins, people sit or stand five deep for a two-mile stretch along the sidewalks as colorful floats, flashy bands and pretty girls make their way down the street.

Five girls from the community college vie for Queen of the festival, where one is crowned at a coronation, and girls from the surrounding communities are chosen to represent their towns during the entire celebration. It is a time for laughter and long hours, banquets and dances, and lots of smiling and waving!
I could've chosen a demure photograph where the girls are in their sparkling gowns and posed smiles, but to me this captures the essence of fun at the festival: foamy hot chocolate on noses on a crisp fall morning before the parade begins. I love that my daughter doesn't take herself too seriously, and though she knows when it's 'proper to be proper', she also recognizes when it's OK to wrap herself in laughter and embrace all those around her.

So here's to queens and tiaras...and feeling comfortable in an evening gown, but being at home in a sweatshirt...

Theatre Crazy

Last night some of the members from our play cast boarded a mini-bus, along with their director, her husband and myself. We traveled to a nearby college that was presenting a colorful play filled with wonderful costumes, sets and music. Being from a tiny, rural community, this was the first of this type of art form for some of them. They were thrilled, to say the least and it was such a joy to watch their eyes light up as the curtain rose on the stage.

Though sometimes dealing with a handful of teenagers can be a bit much, they were wonderful. Not a sound was made during the production as they watched the characters dance to the wonderful music of Gershwin, and an energy filled them as they took home memories of tap shoes on wood, charming young men and pretty girls.

My friend, Shelly drove the bus and as we both are big fans of musicals and the theatre, we were excited to have a night to revel in an all-too-rare moment of magic.

Here's to friends, music and laughter...and to our own debut in the weeks ahead.

Birthday Memory

In October of 1982 during a break in my college schedule, my family and I traveled to Missouri and Arkansas for a short vacation. I spent my birthday in the car on our way back home; not the best way to celebrate, especially when I was prone to car sickness!

On a lonesome highway, out in the middle of nowhere, we noticed a sign at the top of an old abandoned shed. As we got closer, much to our surprise, we saw that the sign bore my name: Lori Lynn. We promptly pulled over and my sister shot this photograph on an overcast October 17th - my 21st birthday.

We're always told to watch for signs in life. I just never realized they could be so obvious!

Bringing up Baby

In 1981 when I was a sophomore in college, my first niece was born. In the days before email and digital cameras, I first saw her in a blurry Polaroid snapshot sent to me from the mountains of Colorado. And it was love at first sight.

When she was still a baby her parents divorced and my sister brought her back to Kansas. Though sad about the situation, I was thrilled to have this darling brown-eyed baby close by. And thus began our journey.

She was a tiny little girl, petite and seemingly fragile. But she had a large spirit, a sparkling laugh and filled a nurturing part of my heart. For awhile she was the only niece, the only grandchild and she bathed in the "first" glow with our attention and love. She was like my own in ways as we flew kites, went trick-or-treating and spent time together. I was her "Ya-Ya"; the only one she'd let comb her hair, the quiet aunt who held her close and brought her comfort.

And time moved on. I got married and started a family, and though my focus shifted to my own little girl and boy, there was always a soft spot in my heart for my Lyndsee.

Last October she was married on a beautiful Autumn day. It was one of the loveliest days I've had in awhile as our family came together to celebrate with her. Though many weddings are harried and stressful, this was a day of great joy where we were able to spend a lot of time with one another, relishing our close ties of being in a large family and having enough love to go around.

Early last spring she and her husband announced that they would be new parents just before their first wedding anniversary. We learned early on that it would be a girl and my mind flashed back to those twenty-five years ago when another little girl was born. The time has moved so quickly and it hardly seemed possible that she would be a mother herself.

Yesterday my sister called with the news: Berklee Kathleen came into this world at 10:09 a.m. At 6 lbs 1 oz. she will also be a tiny girl....and I'm anxious to see those familiar brown eyes when I hold her for the first time tomorrow. And so it begins again. A new cycle of life, a wonderful beginning.

Welcome to the world, Berklee. What love awaits you!

Butterflies

One morning last week I awoke with a terrible headache. I'd already fought a rare migraine a few days before and not wanting to do battle again, opted to stay in bed awhile before going to work later that morning.

I didn't feel like going at all. Though I always consider myself blessed with wonderful gifts in this life, sometimes the inevitable trials gather like dark clouds on the horizon, threatening to shroud my sunny days in gray.

I headed out the driveway, my mind wrapped around all the things that have been causing stress, and though the day was lovely....I barely noticed. As I pulled up to the stop sign at the end of our gravel road, I saw a bright butterfly dancing merrily alongside of me. It swooped and flitted in and out and turned west with me as I pulled out onto the highway. And then I began to see them everywhere; dancing in the blue October sky like a winged ballet.

All the way to town I saw them and each turn brought one or two new butterflies, flying beside me, leading me, carrying me towards my destination. Once there, I walked towards the school accompanied again by a fluttering wisp of yellow.

As I entered the building they disappeared like a favorite dream, lost in the arrival of day. But their moments of merriment as they escorted me that morning stayed with me and set the tone for the rest of my day. And when I walked into the classroom I realized with delight that my headache was gone, and in its place the memory of a dalliance with the butterflies....

Without A Home

I can't get him off my mind...

I felt his presence before I saw him, sitting behind us in the last pew at church this morning. I didn't hear as he silently slipped in, yet I knew he was there.

He was the epitome of a homeless man; disheveled hair and his beard, long..gray..matted. He wore a dirty coat, unnecessary in the lingering Kansas heat and he was bent as if he hadn't the strength or hope to hold him up. I turned slightly and met his eyes. They were tired, lifeless, distant...and he seemed lost in a way that no human should ever be lost. I smiled, mouthing the word, "Welcome" and in return saw the corners of his own raise, his eyes softening. And though the service continued, I could concentrate on little else.

I felt him bow his head in prayer and noticed he sat quietly during the reading of the scripture. He listened as the pianist played during the sharing of special music and at one point, he made his way to the set of pews past the back aisle of the church.

We had to leave before the service was over, due to an engagement in another town. The sermon over, I signaled to the children and we quietly slipped from the pew and out of the sanctuary. I stopped briefly in front of this man and whispered a few words. He partially rose, paying respect to a lady; a gesture he must have learned from someone at some time.

As we left the church my son asked, "Do you know that man, Mom?"
"No, I don't," I told him. In a small community one knows everyone, and homeless people are nonexistent in our safe little world.

We proceeded to the school to pick up some things, then to the gas station up on the highway before making a quick trip home before we had to leave. And all the time I thought of him. My daughter must have been thinking also because on the way home she asked, "What did you say to that man, Mom?"
"I told him that it was nice to have him at church, and thanked him for coming."

It was....and I meant it.

The past few days I have been feeling low because of an opportunity I cannot take. I've been feeling cheated, sullen and on the verge of tears because of things I have to do and things I am unable to do.

Then there was this man...

I was lying in bed tonight, writing letters when my son came in to kiss me good-night. My husband took him back into town this evening for an open gym.
"You know that man from church? Well, we saw him tonight on our way into practice. He was walking south, out of town."

Where did he spend the day? Did someone take him home and feed him dinner, or did he continue to wander aimlessly, searching? And now all I can do is think of him, walking down that highway at night where semi-trucks rush dangerously between the white lines and there are no lights to lead the way.

I pray that he is safe and that somehow, someway his brief stay in a small Methodist church showed him that wherever he is, and wherever he is going, Someone does walk beside him. May he see that light and follow it to higher ground because no one, no where deserves to be without a home.

Valued Friendship

How quickly fly the days...

Back in 1995 my son was enchanted with this little girl. She was the same age as my daughter and came home from kindergarten with us each day to a world of stuffed animals, art and Barbies. She was like our own; another child to fill our home with laughter and our hearts with love. A friendship developed instantly, not just between the girls but with this little boy and his second 'sister'. Having no brothers of her own, she adopted him without question and so began a journey through the years.

Twelve years later they are different.....they are the same, with a bond that has endured despite a separation of miles. Where once they shared each day, now months slip by without a meeting. Still, there is connection. Though apart, they've continued to grow together in mind and spirit as they share such a similarity in intelligence and sense of humor.

How rich they are today. Not only do they have a history of childhood days filled with sweetness and laughter, but they've spun golden threads to create a friendship that has lasted - and will last - throughout the years.

Consideration

Many days after the final school bell rings at 3:20, I change my shoes, pull on a T-shirt and clock-in for cleaning duty. Though it isn't my favorite way to pass those after school hours, it helps to bring in some much needed extra money.

Since we only have one family vehicle, we have to be creative and juggle our schedules so that everyone is where they need to be at any given time. Sometimes when I have to stay late, the kids take the car home so they can catch up on homework and do some chores. When I finish at the school, they either return to pick me up or I wait for my husband to come by on his way home from work.

Yesterday my daughter stayed after school for play practice and my son opted to drive home. I told him I would call the house after thirty minutes or so to make sure he had arrived safely. As is usual for most moms, I got busy with the routine.....and forgot to make the call. An hour later, I remembered and made my way down to the classroom for my cell phone. Noticing there was a voice mail from home, I listened to this message:

"Hey Mom... this is Dylan and I was just calling because you said you were going to call... and I guess you forgot or something...But I made it home all right and I was just letting you know. Bye."

He is 15 and still on a driver's permit so I do worry as his driving experience is limited and he has to go home to an empty house in the country. He knows this about me and was checking in to give his old Mom reassurance that everything was OK.

Consideration is an important thing and it takes just a moment to reassure someone you love - and who loves you - that all is well. Though I let the ball slip on my end this time, I'm glad that my son was caring enough to pick up the slack. Chances are I won't be the only woman in his life and he is well on his way to making sure that any heart close to him will always be safe in the harbor of his love.

Octobering

October is my favorite month of the year. Perhaps it's because my birthday falls in the middle of the month and I equate this time with cherished celebrations. But there are so many reasons to love October.

It's a time for pumpkins and leaves, crisp weather and blue skies. It's scarecrows and corn stalks, haybales and milo fields. It's football games and hot chocolate, sweaters and brilliant sunsets. And it's memories of rosy-cheeked days, hooded jackets and warm little hands in mine.

This photo from 13 Octobers ago lives in my heart as laughter echoes from a wooden eagle's nest and soars through golden leaves. How fleeting were those childhood days and how very precious. Yet in my mind's eye they are still 5 and 2 with nary a care, a backyard of fun and a day filled with Octobering.

Decisions and Honors

Recently my daughter was inducted as a Kansas Honor Scholar by the KU Alumni Association. She is Co-Valedictorian of her senior class and along with several other students in the county, was honored at a banquet.

She sat quietly at the table, taking in the conversation and yet, feeling apart from it as talk turned to college. She is uncertain at this point of where she'd like to go and what she wants to do.

I try to reassure her that many kids her age are unsure of their future goals and the direction they want to take with their lives (as well as some of us 'older' folks!). The fact that 60% of college freshmen are undeclared and students change majors more than five times during their college career does little to comfort her.

Yesterday we went on our first college visit where we toured the campus of a community college about an hour from home. I watched as she strolled along the sidewalks, taking in the sights and observing the
differences between that world and her own. She was charmed by the young man sitting outside in the sunshine playing his guitar and the auditorium filled with sets for an upcoming play. I saw a light in her face as she observed the diversity of a college setting and in her smile as she talked with her guide (Of course, it helped that he was a very handsome college freshman)!

As hard as it will be for me to let her go next fall, I'm excited for the possibilities that lay ahead for her. And even though she's unsure of what she wants to be when she grows up, she will soon learn that it is in the journey of becoming an adult where she will grow and change and not so much in what she actually chooses to do.

I am so proud of her accomplishments thus far and of the direction she's moving. But the greatest honor lies in simply being her mother. and in walking this amazing path that she is so willing to share.

Wishing to Fly

"I truly believe if my time is up here,
Then I will be called.
Till then I am safe.
So...I fly."

I am not a risk taker, preferring to tiptoe around the dangerous edges as I rest comfortably within my safety net. I like to think it's because I value my life and want to steer clear of anything that may cause me harm.

But then I wonder...

I was talking with a friend who spoke of living life to the fullest and gleaning all you can from the day, knowing that you are held safely until your time on this earth is through.

I don't want to leave here with my dreams still neatly wrapped, contained within their packaging because I was too afraid to trust, believe, soar. So...where do you draw the line between living...and living dangerously? When do you throw caution to the wind, rely on faith....and fly?

Coronado's Castle

On top of a rocky hill, resting in the middle of the Kansas prairie lies a stone castle: Coronado's Castle. It's a beautiful place where travelers can stop for a bird's eye view of its rich rural heritage and undisturbed acres of grassland.

Tucked away in my archives, buried in the year 2005, lives a post I wrote about the castle at Coronado Heights. It's a place that has always been dear to me; a place to go where I can find beauty, peace and an abundance of memories.

It is truly a breathtaking journey, this road that leads to the top of Coronado, and the stay is one that lingers in the mind long after the trip has ended. Along the winding road that leads to the top of the hill lies a marker that reads: "A Place to Share", and through that sharing comes moments which are never shaken, nor ever very far away.

My favorite time to visit Coronado is when no one else is there. It then becomes a treasured secret, a hidden escape that leaves no admittance to the outside world. Cares drift away on the Kansas wind and the soul finds a resting place of contentment among the rustling grasses and wildflowers.

There are trails to explore and something new to see each time. Remnants of past loves and memories are left in stones scattered around the hill, yet enhance instead of distract from the setting, as if they have always been a part of its history.

Inside the castle, one can make his way up the steep, spiraled staircase to the top of the world that can rival any city skyscraper in its view.
Fields lay like patchwork quilts along the landscape and small farms dot the top like colorful buttons, tying it all together. The busyness of the city lies far in a distant dream upon the canvas, and there is no room for ill thoughts in the vast loveliness.

Stone picnic tables are scattered on the edge of the hill, inviting intimate meals and quiet conversation. And if one is fortunate to be there at twilight he is treated to a private view of a spectacular display of colors, courtesy of God Himself.

The Rockies of Colorado are beautiful in their awesome height and glory, and it's hard to beat the brilliance of an Ozark mountain lit by Autumn. But give me the quiet hilltop off a lonely Kansas road for a place of peace and reflection. I will choose it every time.

This was the view of our sky tonight. It was as if a great artist tipped his brush in golden embers and swept it across the horizon, leaving trails of pink and purple to float away like wisps of colored smoke.

It's always magical to watch our western canvas each night and witness God's masterpiece in the making: a gift I never tire of.

I'm always amazed at how the simplest things can hold so much beauty. For the past few months I've been making cards for friends and family, using my photography on the front cover to showcase the natural loveliness of the Kansas landscape. I call them, "Backyard Blessings" because most of the pictures are taken literally, from my backyard and remind me how fortunate I truly am.

This weekend when you look out your window, may you see beauty all around you. May the stillness of late summer wrap you in its gentle warmth as we slip into Fall and may your backyard, too, hold many blessings.

A Must Read

If your soul is searching for a place to rest, if you are feeling tired, lonely, frustrated or at a loss, this is for you. Bonnie Bruno has a new book hitting the shelves September 5th entitled, "When God Steps In." Inside you will find fifty stories that share God's grace and how it has impacted and changed lives. Each writing is accompanied by breathtaking photographs taken by Bonnie; a true gift she is sharing with the world.

I got to know Bonnie through her beautiful blog entitled, "Macromoments". In her writing she eloquently shares a joy-filled approach to life as she walks beside God. Her photography blog, "Photo Buffet" shares brilliant pictures and is a lovely respite from the sometimes crazy world we live in today. I feel very honored to share a path with Bonnie and invite you all to get to know her through the poignant beauty of her artistry.

Blessings to you, my friend.....and my sincerest thanks for both the joy and hope you bring to all whose lives you touch.

Casting Cares

I have much on my mind these days. Though the busyness of school hasn't yet hit, it waits just over the horizon and will soon fill our days and nights with a continuous flurry. Financial obligations teeter treacherously on a thin line as I hold my breath for balance. New projects are started for dreams yet to come, and worry perches on my shoulders.

During these times I step outside my back door, head down the dusty road and cast out my cares along the ditches. There is beauty to be seen and moments to hold close and there is no room for the concerns that cloud my day.

And though I am a realist and never run too far, it doesn't hurt every now and then to shrug away the worry, lose myself in silhouette and gather sunflowers for tomorrow.

Friendship

"Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other's Gold."

I was looking at photographs with my daughter yesterday and came across this one, taken last summer during her birthday. Pictured here is one of her oldest and dearest friends who lives in the city we once called home. They met in kindergarten and immediately became kindred spirits.

How well I remember those childhood days when they played dress-up, had lemonade stands and ran screaming through the sprinkler! I've watched them grow through the years, going from giggly little girls who danced in the living room, to lovely young women, with real dances to attend. I love that though separated through miles, they're connected in heart with a tie that will bind them throughout their lives. Next year they will fly out into the world, but how comforting to know that no matter where they roam, they will always have each other.

More Than Meets the Eye

Looking at pictures from my childhood always tugs a little on my heartstrings. I have been blessed all through my life with family, friends and all the other intangibles that brings one wealth. But this aging photograph is particularly poignant and sweet.

My little brother, now 43, was turning two years old. It was the summer of 1966 when I shared this meal with my brothers and sisters, and I was five. The old black rotary phone hangs on the north wall, a party line that we shared with our neighbor: one ring for her...two for us. The calendar, always there beside it was marked with eight family birthdays in my mother's handwriting. Crisp, white curtains at the east window were probably sewn from sheets because Mother always knew how to stretch a dime. A plaque on the wall reads, "My house is clean enough to be healthy, but dirty enough to be happy", a verse that makes me smile now because finding that balance is a real trick for any mother, but especially one of six. The glass turkey candy dish was always on the buffet and though an antique now, was a part of my memory for as far as it goes back.

What makes this picture special is that it includes two pieces of furniture that now sit in my own home: the buffet with glass doors and the round, oak table. They are relics from my past, reminders of another world when families were everything and times, simpler. Here we were all together. My mother was young and vibrant, tanned from her days on the farm and aglow with the love for her children.

I keep this photograph on that very buffet, next to that same table in my dining room. It reminds me of where and who I came from and the blessings I received growing up the way I did. And though that little girl of 1966 is all grown up now, she often longs for the times when the days stretched wonderfully before her, life was new, and all the riches in the world sat around an old oak table.

Enchantment at the Fair

For many years now, our little town has held a fair on the grounds just south of the community building and underneath the water tower. Though the livestock has already been shown and sold at the county fair, people come together here for food, fellowship and old-fashioned fun.

The new Senior class opens up the concession stand doors to new sales and a new year as they work long hours flipping and selling burgers along with pop, candy, and chili dogs. Friends gather to discuss their summer frivolities and opinions on those first days of classes since school gave a reprieve from a day of study.

The tennis courts turn into a stage for cheerleader's dances and crowds sit on wooden planks across hay bales to listen to the country-western band.

Saturday evening brings the parade as young and old set up lawn chairs in their favorite spots, seeking refuge from a muggy Kansas day.
The High School band lines up with colorful flags and shiny brass tubas. Local princesses dress in finery, sharing smiles and keeping things light and in perspective. In place of convertibles, they ride together in the back of a bright orange truck, emblazoned with flames and laugh as they wave to their friends and families.

The National Anthem is sung and all rise, placing hands over hearts. Gentlemen's hats are removed as veterans somberly carry the flag; their quiet voices calling out the steps. Firemen and emergency workers throw candy at excited children who run bravely to the street and come back with fistfuls of treats for their pockets.

In any small town parade, after the trucks and before the horses come the tractors. Past, present and future farmers drive relics from yesterday slowly down the street and observer's nod in remembrance, reflecting on the good old days.

Little ones wave to grandpas and brothers and cameras click away to record precious moments.

A pork loin supper follows as all fill up their plates with the juicy, smoked meat and gather around picnic tables for supper. The sounds of the Sizzler, Ferris Wheel and Bullet fill the evening air, gearing up for a busy night. Crowds gather at the BINGO table and the carnival as everyone wants to try his luck. And the games begin.

The fair is a special time for our town. People come back to reunite with loved ones and share a night of simple enchantment. Though I didn't grow up here, it has become an annual ritual that I look forward to with the beginning of the school year. Now that the kids are older, they don't need me to chaperon them anymore and though I'm somewhat at a loss, am free to roam the grounds with my husband as we take our traditional ride on the Ferris Wheel.

As the evening fades into night, and the fair winds down, families depart to continue reunions at home and friends share tears and hugs as they go separate ways; some leaving for college while others go back to their new lives, away from the place they once called 'home'. It is a time of music and memories, coming together and shared laughter...and it is a special moment in the life of our little town.

By Sunday there is no trace of the fair; the rides are dismantled and traveling to the next place of fun, and the sounds of laughter have disappeared into the sultry sunshine. Still, it lingers on our faces and in the air as we carry its remnants in our hearts to draw upon until next year.

Thanks for the memories. What a time we had!