Pull Over Before Reading

Hands up all of us honest enough to admit we've gotten lost on the road.  Okay now how about at a friend's house, looking for the bathroom?  The cereal aisle at the local grocery store?  I was born with the "getting lost" gene and I think I have several people's share of it as well.  Please write and I'll see how we can arrange a swap for a math gene or something left brained that I'm sure I don't have.  I keep telling the kids, usually right before we're about to get lost, while we're getting lost and after we're pretty sure we're not lost anymore, that I'm going to get a G.P.S.  One handicap is that I'm still a little too independant to admit I need help in that department.  Even though I pay more at the pump than the rest of the population due to unplanned detours, daydreams of what's-his-name and Highway 401 whoopsie-daisies, I'm reluctant to just give it all up.  The amazing power of being able to flip open my laptop and Google the address, only to be taken to within a stone's throw of where I really want to be is such a thrill.  Or the joy of buying a map at the local gas station while befriending the cashier to see if she might be of some assistance.  I can now speak a smattering of no less than 15 foreign languages including hand signals and I've never set foot off the continent.   Adding to all of that fun, I'm not sure I can handle one more voice in my car.  Maybe they have an "are we there yet?" feature programmed in just to annoy.  How do I know?  Besides, I've already named my car Betsy, what do I call the gp?  What if I yell at the wrong piece of technology on the accelerator lane and will they know?It's almost as if machines have a personality of their own.  Will my suspension suddenly drop huffily onto the highway while the navigator snidely directs me to the nearest anger management clinic?Maybe I can hack the system and subsitute the local dairy bar.   Add to all that my lack of consumer savvy and I'll probably end up buying some amazingly low-priced model built by one of our non-friendly competitor countries.  They'll have grown bored of attacking from the air and upload alternate directions, just for fun.  "Just keep going over the bridge and hey...that might just be your exit.  Nope, just kidding.  Now take a quick u-turn and try not to hit anyone...else.  For further directions, please insert 2300 dinar in exact change."  So, for now, I'm content to take life as it comes with all its quirks, foibles and near misses.  I'll keep leaving riduculously early to watch other non-gp's come straggling into the dentist's office looking like the first day of kindergarten and clutching their own scoop of mocha madness.

The Painter's Brush

If there is one thing that we can count on, it is that life will be completely unpredictable. I am back at the beach, this time with my family and tow.  The chill has been banished by the over-ruling sun and the sand sizzles with a warm welcome of delight as the last of the vacationer’s take advantage of this reprieve from an early fall. Most of the people on this beach are cottage owners that will be soon heading back to the demands of work and school with the exception of the gulls that tramp the shoreline begging their lunch. I can see the outline of land far across the lake and I wonder what it must have been like for the first settlers of this country; seeing home for the first time or returning after working at sea. The gently undulating line on the horizon is no more than the Painter’s brush swept across the water with a blend of color mixed from the lighter sky and the blue waters that darken with mystery as they make their rendezvous with the distant sky. The landline beckons to me of friends and family I have left across the shore, never forgotten. It is here that I feel closest to them at times when seemingly such a small body of water separates us and I can simply float effortlessly homeward like driftwood. The rush of a motorboat slicing through the waves pulls me back to the present and I am on the beach with my family, watching them read and trying not to slip down the sandy hill where I’ve found enough shade to open my laptop. I've discovered it’s rather hard to wax eloquent when there’s sand in your drawers. I’d like to think I could pull off a neat somersault and nail the landing perfectly with my laptop held safely aloft but I just don’t see that happening.  I climb gingerly down the little hill and run off to toss the football some more.  I'm going  enjoy this unexpected blessing of warmth and the love of the family that I carry with me always.

Madame President

It's that time of the year again.  Time to sharpen our pencils and our wits, and head back to the pathway of learning and enlightenment.  Actually it's less of a pathway and more like the yellow brick road.  The scarecrows will walk a little further, exploring their passions and talent.  The lions will bravely find their way home by heart and the tin woman at our house will begin each day by saying "Class is now in session."   For many homeschooling moms, it's a time of year where we wonder if we are quite up to the challenges of the coming year and how we'll cope with each of them.  Flashbacks of chickenpox outbreaks, jello food fights and rainy day field trips keep us up long after our bedtimes staring at the ceiling and wondering what tales of bravery we'll have to flaunt after the school year is over.  Whether it's public school or homeschool, there are always new and exciting lessons to learn for mom and child alike.  My oldest will be learning to drive this year.  I will be learning how not to over react this year..a mild prediction.
 I think that one of the biggest challenges is finding time to become the person that we are while balancing the needs of the rest of the family.  This starts with the basics like time to dress and perform our morning rituals without having to play diplomat to the feuding cereal factions in the hallway.  Apple Jacks versus the Fruit Loops, literally.  For instance, what to do when a piece of paper slyly crept under the door followed, believe it or not, by a pencil and a rather bold request for a signature from some small person suffering from temporary insanity.  I was incredulous!  I said the only thing that I could without bursting a blood vessel.  "Even the president of the United States gets to visit the john without having the FBI slip documents under the door for his immediate inspection.  Just how big a hurry are you in and do you really want to make this field trip?"  I wonder later if I've been too harsh but not for long.  In contrast, I also have warm, fuzzy memories of our drives to school in the winter when the sky was an inky black slate  and the day's mistakes yet unwritten.  My favorite feature of our little house was the attached garage so that I could bundle up in my favorite lap blanket and slippers, tuck my coffee cup safely next to me with the neighbors none the wiser.  We'd drive to school in a drowsy, warm cocoon of music with the aroma of coffee swirling through air.  Sometimes they'd even have their own little travel mugs of chicory roast and I could see them in my mirror as they appeared deep in thought, sipping and planning their day.  The memory of lighting scented candles after work and baking cookies to the endless parade of carols on the radio makes me look forward each year to the chill that autumn brings.  I guess it's those little memories that ground us and remind us of all the blessings we have while offering courage for the journey ahead.  So while we wait for our books to arrive in the mail with anticipation, I am fortified by the gentle reminder that I have a Father that is faithfull in all things and will not leave me without His help and guidance.  As I slip a prayer heavenward, I don't have to wonder if He's too busy or if I'm on the schedule for the day.

Fall is in the Air

The same beach that was crowded with noisy picnic crowds and laughing children only a week earlier was looking a little forlorn today as I descended the shade covered path.  The sand was cool and soft beneath my flip flops and I shivered slightly from the fairy breeze that ruffled the leaves overhead.  The sun was high in the sky and the water beckoned with its usual carefree dance of windswept waves and foam.  It was such a short summer with so much rain and so much to do that I'd only been out a couple of times this year.  I dipped a foot experimentally in the water and was bitterly reminded of the shortness of the season.  What was I doing that was so important all summer long that I'd neglected this beautiful treasure of balmy winds and diamond waters?  True, it was only Lake Erie and not some tropical paradise but the basic elements all combined to the same effect...the constant wooing of water on the shoreline while gulls chorused overhead and the wind that conspired to make nonsense of any well thought-out hairdo.  With a sigh, I headed further up the beach away from the tumbled seaweed that scattered the shoreline and laid out my quilt.  Suddenly the well organized life that had seemed so important to me was utterly ridiculous in contrast to the bounty of God's beauty that lay unappreciated and silent.  As if waiting patiently for acknowledgement and the inevitable smile of bliss that followed any of His elaborate handiwork.  I stretched out and felt the tension of the morning melt out of my shoulders as the sunshine kneaded the knots out of my tired body.  I opened my library book and fell to reading like a word starved librarian, allowing myself to be transported in to the world of Grisham where football players roamed the streets of Italy and ingested ungodly amounts of carbs and espresso.  I was on the Ligurian seaside pleasantly idling the day away until a deep voice shattered my solitary reverie.  Yes...what was a pretty girl like me doing reading on the beach, of all things.  As though I should have been better occupied cleaning a cottage for darling little diamond miners and supervising the rabbits as they licked the dishes clean.  Indeed!  With a straight face I informed him I was waiting for my fiancee to roll around.  Not that I had one yet but then...he didn't need to know that and one never knew what was waiting around a bend in the road.  He ambled off less enthusiastically than he ambled on and I snickered into my book with self satisfied delight.  Maybe I should have been less acerbic and found a more polite way to answer.  Maybe they would invent chocolate with all the nutrition of an 8 quart basket of mixed vegetables and none of the calories.  Maybe I should have had a V-8.