1971 was SO long ago!

When I woke up this morning I immediately knew the day was significant. You know how some days your head is all foggy and you cannot even recall what day it is, let alone that the day is significant? Well, this was different-I woke up so alert and aware of the day. I heard birds singing as I usually do, those morning kind that just do not stop chirping with happiness.

Totally annoying when you think about it- who is that cheery so early in the morning? I just want my first cup of coffee with that yummy International Creamer to take away the taste of coffee and make me think I am having dessert. Oh, suddenly it came to my head, clear as a bell.(where did that ding dong cliche' come from anyway??)That is when I realized why the day was significant, because that is when I remembered living with someone for 30 years who always woke up cheerful, ready to take on the world in a good mood. He also usually went straight to the kitchen and not only made coffee for us both, but soon thereafter brought me that first irreplaceable delicious cup, freshly brewed, steaming and in the perfect mug. Ah yes, those were the days!

Then I remembered, almost as quickly, a Bible verse I had read regarding memorializing previous happenings...it was in Ecclesiastes, I believe. There it is in chapter 7, right after those curious words telling me that the house of mourning is better than the house of feasting...
The end of a thing is better than the beginning;
The patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.
Do not hasten in your spirit to be angry, for anger rests in the bosom of fools.
Do not say Why were the former days better than these? For you do not inquire wisely concerning this...




Today, 37 years fast forwarded from May 29, 1971, I am able to enjoy my freshly made cup of coffee, made with just the right amount of International Creamer. I even buy the fat free variety, just in case it helps me feel healthier - because it certainly isn't going to extend my life any longer than God has numbered my days! The birds singing aren't really reminding me of my truly well loved husband who is truly far away, but they are reminding me of God faithfully providing for me as a single woman flying solo in a really beautiful world He created for my enjoyment. Every single spring the same birds come back to the same trees and bushes and rafters, and make more babies and sing more songs, no matter what the condition of the world is. No matter there is an earthquake or war or famine or political scandal, God has kept the birds singing and the babies coming. He has also allowed me a few more years to enjoy my morning cup of coffee and look forward to what is in my path ahead.

It was sunny back then in 1971, and there was a beautiful blue sky. But to be truthful, I was really uncomfortable in that white scratchy dress, and I hated being in front of so many people, and the humidity was incredible and really nasty, and what about those little kids running around at the reception, and since we had no car we had to take a BUS to NYC for our 2 day honeymoon....-now that was annoying....

Looking backward often makes me stumble anyway, I need all of my vision focused on what is ahead.

To the Birds!

If you look carefully out my living room window and sit very quietly you will see a wondrous event unfolding in front of your very eyes! Technically, the whole thing was completed from start to finish in just under two hours. I know this because I sat and watched, most of the time with my mouth gaping open and my camera ready to click unobtrusively.

Mr. and Mrs. Mourning Dove were becoming parents and readying the neighborhood with a home fit for the coming dovelet. {OK you tell me, what is a baby dove called? doveling? baby dove? young coo-er?)I have noticed for several days these birds flapping around, climbing in and out of the tree, but every time I peered into the tree I only saw branches and no sign of a nest.If you recall I am an avid birdwatcher, so I notice these things....Back to my story....

This particular morning as I was watching Good Morning America!with Diane Sawyer and Robin Roberts, my best friends in the morning for coffee, I noticed 2 mourning doves doing alot of activity in my line of vision.

Here is how it played out: Mrs. M.D. (now I must assume they are married as they worked so well together and nary said a nasty word the entire time!)sat perched precariously on an upper level branchlet. Not the biggest branch in the tree but I did note it was well supported underneath. As she waited, Mr. Dove flew back and forth and brought her pieces of leaves and branches and bushes in his beak. He would fly out, fly back within a minute, and quickly transfer the building material, then zoom off again. As he left for more she tucked,turned and twisted in what appeared to be an aimless act of piling up the 'stuff'. Back and forth,back and forth, she never trading jobs or seeming to complain that he was pretty fast with his return route, he never lingering or cooing or dawdling, just back and forth. Often the little return item was so large he had to do an artful slippage into the tree, but he seemed to take it all in flight, maneuvering hither and yon and ending up with the transfer.


As I observed the work, especially during commercials from Robin and Diane, the nest seemed to be taking shape even as it didn't make any sense. how could 2 birds create a safe place to hatch their eggs with the wind blowing, my dear cat Apryl and the neighbor cat, both watching??I took a picture of the neighbor cat just in case I needed evidence in a court of birds.

This all happened at the beginning of the week, the day after Mother's Day if you can believe that timing!! So all of this week there has been a rather quiet Mrs. M.D. sitting on her well built nest, Mr. dropping in on very rare
occasions, but close by nonetheless since I see him flurrying about the yard and hear him cooing every morning. Maybe I should say he is mourning?

So, there must be a moral to this story, otherwise why spend so much time observing this pair of feathered friends? Believe me when I say that I have spent alot more time than just these few moments drawing parallels to marriage and life and the empty nest syndrome...


I wonder, for instance,if when the eggs are laid(or is that lain?)and the shells shoved onto the ground for some young human to discover and cart into science class, if the Mrs. will PUSH the young guy out to fly out of the nest or if she will gently encourage him to fly or if, perhaps, Mr. M.D. will fly along beside the young guy and show him HOW to fly alone? If there are more than one dovelets will they make her tired from repeating the same bird lessons over and over and over? Will she UNmake the same nest as she made should Mr. suggest they lay more eggs after a few weeks, or will she willingly add more branches knowing the storms have torn down some of its strength and ability to resist the weather and surely it will need
tending to?

I just went and checked on the young mumsie since it is a bit chilly here today with rain finally pouring steadily from the skies. I was going to try and snap another photo, but decided when one is waiting for children one does NOT appreciate the world seeing the lack of energy and action! Mr. is nowhere to be seen.
Should this young couple decide to feather their nest, so to speak, later in the summer, I will let you know if dad sticks around to show his babies HOW to fly or if he follows another birds cooings.

From my perspective, when the young birds have slowly and with scrapes and broken wings stabilized and flown, the fun will begin watching as the next year's batch of birds build their nests in my tree and out my window. I may not trim this tree outside my window for a long time, just to help out a bit. Because there may be a hard winter storm ahead and they may very well need the help of a friend.

A look inside my head

Since the Liberian funeral of my friend Steve, I have wanted to write about my thoughts. Not that the thoughts themselves are so grandiose, but really, for ME anyway, blogging is a way of talking and getting the stuff inside my head out into the light of day. I think perhaps there are people who ruminate and think and when they speak it is after they have mulled over lots of thoughts privately and then VOILA' something good comes forth. However, for me that changed the day that my husband of 31 years and even more years of being my listening post, left. On a good day I joke that he probably got tired of hearing what was in my head. On a bad day, I think my head talk is the reason he left. No matter, I am talking now and the contents of my head are overflowing so I am compelled to write. The memorial service/funeral was almost too amazing to speak of and yet I must!! It was held a week after Steve's untimely death in a part of Philadelphia I am unacquainted with, so I started early for the 9:00 am service on Saturday. As I neared the area, I noticed parking would be difficult since the police had barricaded the streets for a festival of sorts. I also noticed that I was looking a bit like a marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate, bobbing around and sticking out quite plainly. The more amazing scene was the church - full of finely dressed Liberians,many carrying in large pans of foods, to be later served as they grieved their loss together over the universal balm of the soul-food. The service was on a time schedule of the limitation of 3 hours before the graveside service was to begin. The length of cars with purple cards in the windows was at least two blocks long already with more pouring in by the minute. The attire was basic black with an occasional spot of color splashed in and I , of course already looking out of place, had on the closest thing to black I have-a brown skirt. There were men and women and not too many small children other than the youngest of the 6 sons, whom I only glimpsed at the end hanging onto his mommy's skirts. He is 10 or so and I knew him when I worked at the school where he attended. My heart is sad for his loss of a man he will someday want to emulate, but encouraged that his five older brothers have a good start on doing just that. There was singing, there were memories spoken, testimonies of goodness given, organizations represented, and tears shed. The majority of people who spoke wondered how his shoes would be filled and yet also spoke of God being able to fill them well. Sadness and shock mixed with joy and acceptance was a powerful combination. After 2 hours I found myself needing to stand in the back and so I was able to see what was behind me in this very old and large church. There was a sea of people filling the church pews! Not just a few, not just the usual representation when someone dies and one must go to a funeral...an ocean of love was packed into the pews like sardines in a can. The back aisles were crammed with people and the basement had women preparing the lunch to follow. I counted over 600 people and finally gave up! The service in the church ended with occasional,gentle admonitions from Pastor Mike, and flowed out the door and into the street and waiting line of cars quickly and quietly. At this point I watched as the cars rolled away, feeling that my presence was no longer necessary while also knowing that the afternoon had just begun for these mighty friends and family of Steve. After all, the same crowd had been together grieving at the wake the night before and since my son Andrew attended and came home at 2:30 am from it, I knew the capacity to comfort and uphold each other was strong in this Liberian community. I spoke of this experience being amazing to me and I speak that word quite intentionally rather than lightly. There is a song that speaks of amazing too.Had it not been for the amazing grace of Jesus Christ, this funeral and so many others would truly be devastating and unbearable. But it wasn't and it doesn't have to be for anyone. We are momentarily sad and will miss our friend, father, brother, uncle, cousin, much and often. Amazing is that we still have Hope of seeing him again, of him being alive forever, and of the sadness diminishing and joy returning. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see! Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come.'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home. When we've been there 10,000 years, bright shining as the sun, we've no less days to sing God's praise than when we first begun! This familiar oft sung hymn has been memorized and sung by many.The greatest impact of the words, however, are not at a ball game when sung by a famous singer. The greatest impact and necessity to any of us personally will be at the funeral of a young , vital, much loved man of 51 years, or at the side of a sobbing mother in China as she unburies from the rubble of an earthquake the lifeless body of her only child who had earlier that day just gone to school, or during the recovery of bodies swept to sea by a cyclone tearing into Myanmar and leaving entire villages gone.My head goes on and on, inside replaying the news releases and reports of terrorists in India and floods in the Midwest and shootings of police officers and homeless people. Truly the only way the stuff of this life comes out of my head is amazingly simple. Trusting God that He knows what He is doing and that His plan includes me, and China and Myanmar and that He indeed does hold the whole world in His hands. AMAZING.

What a Week!

I repeat, what a week!

It began in the middle of an ordinary spring week, cool evenings, warming daytime temps, promising a flower-filled Spring.

I received an email asking for prayer for a dying friend. Steve was 51 and was not dying the last time I encountered him late last Fall. We had both been at the same lawyer's office for a free consultation regarding our sons' latest escapades, and we mutually agreed we were getting too old, too fast.How could he be in renal failure and at death's door?? So I prayed for God's strength for all his sons and his wife, as well as healing should God allow. God's choice was death and so we grieve this too young father. At almost the same moment in time, I received another email, sharing the good news of my daughter's new niece arriving in wonderfully great health! I again prayed, asking God for continued grace and blessings on this very new almost family. Death and life intertwined.

On Thursday, my grandson Eliot, the oldest,first one of the wonderful ten,became 7 years old and we celebrated with a chihuahua party(as only a 7 year old can!)! Along with that particularly fun celebration we included the 2nd birthday milestone of Ethan, our Cinco de Mayo baby of daughter Julie. Oh my, what a party!!Who hasn't a fond memory of a 'pin-the-hat on the something 'game??(Yes, it was a chihuahua...)?or an appetizer labeled dog poop, when in fact it was chocolate covered raisins?(Ok, maybe this one isn't so common, I'll give you that)


Eliot's birth was so joyous and exciting , the intiation of my husabnd and I into the world of grandparenting. It is, I soon discovered, the best kept secret of aging, and I am so thrilled that I am in the Club!!We don't all wear Red hats or dress in Purple, but we do all carry wallets filled with photos and a story to match anybody else's who is bragging....

On the day my first grandson came home from the hospital, my only daddy went home to Heaven, suddenly and without warning after a brief phone call to me telling me how thrilled he was in becoming a great grandfather. Seven years later and I still cried this afternoon as I thought about him and how he took me fishing at a place I am not even sure exists anymore when I was oh- so- young-and-innocent. I still miss him so much. Life and Death interwoven.

In spite of(or was it because of??) the sadnesses mixed with the happinesses, I chose to visit Ocean City NJ yesterday with daughter Becca and her twin 18 month old babies! They had never seen the OCEAN and the wonder of that experience was one I eagerly anticipated as we drove to south Jersey merrily singing along to baby music.



Perhaps not too beneath the surface of my emotionally charged mind, was the birthday memory of another set of twins 24 years earlier on April 30th. Ben and brother Simon were born and shortly thereafter raised by 2 different mothers, but loved by both, even countries and oceans apart. The paths of these mothers crossed, and by God's divine design, the women are now friends. Brother Benjamin, however, our precious Benny, died about 18 months ago. His birthday is but a reminder to those of us who knew him, that truly God is the Creator of mankind, giver and taker of life. Life and Death separating.

My blog name is appropriately named, since I really have nothing more profound to say than my own observations, scribblings, and feelings... and yet, sometimes, I wonder...without knowing God , how do people handle this kind of week?