Eternal Beauty

Recently I was reflecting on how dry I have felt spiritually, wondering why I don't seem to hear God's voice as much as I did in the past. It must be because because I'm always so busy with day-to-day responsibilities that I don't have much time to be still, let alone think about anything eternal.

This morning, God reminded me that He still speaks. 

After sleeping in until nearly nine, I fed the pets--four of them now; I'll have to tell you about that another day. I poured my sister Amy a bowl of cereal, put in a load of laundry, and walked across the park to meditate on my scripture memory cards. By now it was nearly ten, and it was shockingly hot. I hadn't even made it out of the cul-de-sac before the sun beating on my back nearly made me rethink my decision. The house was a wreck, and there was plenty I could be doing in the air conditioning, but I pressed on. 

When I reached the big circle in the middle of the park, I hesitated in the shade on the path. I looked to my right, where I'd planned to go. That way leads to my favorite part of the park, where the path ends in a little loop overhung with giant trees. I'd had a lovely time studying my scriptures at a picnic table there the week before. Surveying the path, I realized there were zero trees shading the path as far as I could see.

To my left, the other picnic table where I've often meditated on my scriptures was sitting in full sun. That would not be an option. Then I gazed across the soccer field to the playground, half full of energetic children. Next to that was the basketball court, where a few teenagers were shooting baskets. The picnic tables over there were in full shade, but I craved silence. I sighed, poised to return home. 

No! I wanted to study my scriptures, and I wanted to do it surrounded by green trees and grass and blue skies, not dirty laundry. As soon as I set foot on the big circular sidewalk leading to the playground, the sun beat down on me mercilessly. The soccer field was empty at this hour, so I made a sudden left and cut across the grass.

Sweat was just beginning to trickle down my back when I reached the shade next to the playground. I settled onto one of the picnic table benches and pulled out a stack of cards. Immediately, a little red spider crawled onto my hand. I crushed it without a thought, then felt bad. Keeping my eyes on the little business cards where I have copied perhaps 20 precious memory passages that God has given me over the last couple of decades, I tried to imagine that I was alone.

I whispered verse after verse to myself, marveling that I hardly needed to glance at the cards even though I often go months without pulling them out to refresh my memory. The familiar, beloved words filled my mind and heart as the voices of children and teenagers receded out of my consciousness. A cool breeze lifted my hair, and I smiled. "Thank you," I whispered.

One thing that I couldn't block out was the parade of spiders that crawled over my hands, my legs, my phone, and the little black bag where I keep the scripture cards. I carefully knocked each one away. The only other thing that I smashed was a fire ant that bit my calf. 

After about 20 minutes, I'd had all of the spiders I could take, so I stacked my cards and stowed them in the bag, inspecting for wayward critters before I fastened the Velcro. Considering my options for returning home, I decided to walk away from the big circle and over the other bridge, hoping there might be more shade on that path. 

As I crossed the bridge, I noticed two hand-painted plaques leaning against the low concrete wall, each decorated with random embellishments such as angels and rainbows. "Add a painted stone," the first said. The second said, "To see how long I can get." What on earth was that supposed to mean?

Then my eyes moved lower, to a line of painted stones that extended all the way down the wall and partway down the path. There were humble colored rocks in every color, along with elaborately decorated stones with googly eyes and glitter. How wonderful, I thought. I don't know why, but that crooked line of painted stones really moved me. One person, probably a child, had made a sweet gesture and invited others to do the same... and they had answered the call. 

I looked back and forth down the line of stones and took it all into my heart, a smile stretching across my face, the hot sun momentarily forgotten.

As I cut across the Frisbee golf course under the shade of two giant trees, I opened my mouth and let the joy bubble out. "Thank you for putting beauty in the heart of man," I whispered. A Bible verse tickled the back of my mind, just out of reach. Beauty in the heart of man.... Or was it eternity in the heart of man? Maybe it was both, I decided. God set the beauty of eternity in the heart of man, so that we could look up from the darkness around us and the tedium of everyday life and take pleasure in all the little joys around us, so that we could find beauty and make beauty, and we could do it together. 

On the short walk home, I thanked God for the painted rocks, the shade, the breeze, the scriptures, and even for the labor unions who gifted us with weekends. Back at the house, I measured out 12 grams of coffee beans and poured them in my little hand grinder, mixing in some vanilla flavored chicory. I only drink one cup of coffee a week, which is one cup more than my doctor wants me to have. That makes it extra special. I let the coffee steep for four minutes in the French press and then pressed the plunger down.

Turning my back on the dirty dishes, I carried the coffee to my room and plunked down in my favorite easy chair. I read my Jesus Calling devotional, which never gets old even though I'm now on my third year of daily readings. Next, I wrote three pages of increasingly messy cursive in my gratitude journal; I've been making myself write in cursive for the last several weeks because I don't like to think that cursive is a dying art, and also because I've read that it's good for the brain. In any case, I don't like my sloppy writing, but it does get easier the more I do it. 

After all that gratitude, my chores were calling to me, but then I remembered that I'd been unable to complete an entry in my latest Write the Word journal a couple of days before because my pen had run out of ink. My work could wait a few more minutes, I decided. I flipped to the page marked with a ribbon and then wrinkled my forehead in confusion. The date of the entry was May 8, 2021. Oh, this was the wrong journal. It was the first of my three Write the Word journals, a gift from my boss a couple of years ago. 

Since the book was in my hands, I decided to read an old entry. I love looking back on old journal entries, like stepping back in time. I riffled through the pages, wondering where I should read. I finally settled on the second entry, from May 5, 2021. My eyes widened when I read the verse I had copied in neat, crisp print. You can probably guess what verse it was, but I was flabbergasted!

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom the work that God has done from beginning to end.

I know that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and do good while they live, and also that every man should eat and drink and find satisfaction in all his labor—this is the gift of God. (Ecclesiastes 3:11-13) 

Below the passage, I had written, "How can God make everything beautiful? I know He does it in His time, in its time. It takes time to build beauty, and in time that beauty becomes visible.... I love it that God thinks the best thing we can do is rejoice. He wants us to have joy and do good, and to enjoy doing good. He wants us to eat and drink and enjoy the fruit of our labor. That feeling of 'job well done' is God's gift to us." 

I left that other journal entry unfinished so I could revel in this sacred echo. I'd been right. The passage was about both eternity and beauty. Also, it showed me that God had enjoyed hearing my list of everyday joys just a few minutes before.

I set the journal back in the bin tenderly and set about my weekend chores with a light heart. Oh yes! God still speaks to me. But only when I take the time to listen.

More beauty in my day:

Allyson's Last Homecoming Dance

Best Friends

The Gift of Renewed Appreciation

In a relatively recent entry, I related how God gave me a gift I didn't know I wanted, in the form of a Lab mix named Olive. A few months later, He gave me another gift I hadn't been looking for. 

Long before Olive came along, two cats joined our family. The first was Arwen, a Russian blue that Ethan picked out. She was soon followed by CiCi, a white and gray scamp with an astonishing capacity for dreaming up mischief. 

In truth, I never wanted a cat at all, but my two children wore me down with their relentless pleading. We'd all suffered a staggering blow when Bill and I divorced, and I wanted to give them a little joy as we embarked on our new life in a single-parent household. Arwen and CiCi fulfilled every misgiving that had fueled my arguments against owning a cat, and they had additional vices I'd never even imagined. Even so, Arwen quickly stole my heart, but that is another story. 

CiCi came to us as a baby whom I could hold in one hand. Although she was impossibly cute, she was all claws and teeth, and much of my affection ebbed away each time she drew blood in the fight to keep stolen food, or used her claws to communicate her desire to be left alone. 

Baby CiCi and Allyson

Orphaned as a newborn, CiCi has been a talented scavenger from the start. We soon learned there is virtually nothing she won't eat; for example, she licks out empty cans of tomato paste the moment I set them on the counter. She shares my love of carbohydrates but has an advantage over me in that she can literally sniff out tortillas and loaves of bread within seconds. For that reason, we can never leave grocery bags unguarded, or else we will find holes in the wrapper and hunks of bread missing, or a perfect half moon cut out of a stack of tortillas. But her favorite food is anything she can fish out of the toaster, such as my beloved pancakes. 

Worth Getting Up For

On Friday and Saturday, February 24-25, Allyson and her teammates competed in the state Academic Decathlon meet in Frisco, Texas. Although it was an hour's drive, there was no way I would miss the awards ceremony that Sunday morning.

When I sent a text requesting the details, Allyson tried to dissuade me:

Sarah: ...I want to be there when you give your winning speech ♥

Allyson: nooooo

Sarah: I want to cheer for your awards, whatever you get

Allyson: idk how to explain it but i probably won't win many individual awards, cause i'm going for a overall award rather than just individual

Sarah: Oh. I've been looking forward to cheering for you and your team. :( 

Allyson: you can come it's fine... it's just there's two ways you can strategize for state you can study really hard on one subject to try to win one medal or you can study all of them- not get individual medals, and try to win as an overall student...

Sarah: Well, if I can go, I'd like to.

Allyson: you have to buy a ticket

I sent several more messages requesting instructions on purchasing the ticket, and Allyson continued warning me to lower my expectations. She told me that her prepared speech had been a little short on time so she'd had to improvise, but that her impromptu speech had been great. Other than that, she wasn't sure how she did.

Allyson: there is no guarantee i get any awards keep that in mind

Sarah: I know. I think you will. But even if you don't I will be super proud of you and your team. You all worked very hard.

Allyson: thank you

I Wasn't Surprised

 As I mentioned in my previous entry, Allyson has taken her role as co-captain of the Academic Decathlon team very seriously, especially in recent weeks as they were preparing for their regional meet. Over Christmas break, I was shocked when she woke up early one morning to meet her teammates at a coffee shop for a study session which she had organized. And I was even more impressed when she came home and said she'd really enjoyed it. 

Last Monday (January 23), she went to her room with an energy drink after an early supper to study and finish planning her speech. 

"Will it be a late night?" I asked. "I'm afraid you won't be able to sleep if you drink that."

She nodded. "I need it to stay awake. I'll probably be up until 2 or 3." 

The next morning after she'd left for school, I came across the note cards for her speech on the bathroom counter. The top card captured my attention with a riveting introduction. I knew she planned to share the speech with me when she was finished, but I couldn't resist reading the whole thing right then. I smiled as I flipped through the cards because it took me back to speech class in college, when I'd written my notes on index cards just like these; I'd figured that no one wrote notes in ink anymore due to all the electronic options these days. (The notes, it turns out, were only for practicing. At the actual competition, she would have to give her speech from memory.)

I noted with satisfaction the smooth transitions, the appeals to emotion and logic, and the statistics she used to back her claim that hateful rhetoric in the media incites physical violence. I noted one section where the transition felt a little abrupt but decided not to mention it unless she asked for my advice. 

That same evening, Allyson asked me to brew her a pot of coffee after dinner for another late night. As I twisted the hand grinder that I use each Saturday to prepare my one cup of coffee each week, I marveled that my little girl was old enough to drink coffee--even though she's actually been drinking it for several years. It felt different, somehow, like when my parents used to drink coffee from a Thermos to stay awake all night on cross-country trips.

About four hours later, when I was getting ready for bed, Allyson came into my room for a few minutes for our usual bedtime prayer. When I asked if she had any requests, she asked that God would help her perform well at the upcoming Academic Decathlon competition scheduled for the coming Friday and Saturday (January 27-28). 

"You left the notes for your speech in the bathroom today," I said. "I hope you don't mind that I read them. I think your speech is really strong. I especially like the intro. It really grabbed my attention." 

She frowned. "I don't like my speech at all. I'm going to work on it tonight."

"Are you just tweaking it, or revamping it completely?" I contemplated offering advice about the transition, but her answer made it irrelevant.

"Revamping it."

Next, she told me about the sleepover she'd planned for the team on Friday night. Other teams who'd traveled to compete would be staying in a hotel and using every moment together to study, and Allyson wanted her team to have the same advantage. "The whole team--well, the nine people who are competing--will be spending the night at my dad's."

"Won't you need to go to bed early?"

"We have to cram for Saturday," she said. 

She said it was the first sleepover some of the girls had ever been to, and she was nervous about making it an experience that everyone would enjoy. I was touched that she was not only concerned with the studying, but also with making everyone feel comfortable.

So we prayed that the study session would be productive and fun for everyone, and then I asked God to help Allyson as she reworked her speech that evening, and that He would help her deliver the speech in a way that would impact everyone who heard it. 

Quizzing Each Other with Flashcards
The Sleepover Was A Success Both Academically and Socially

Let Me Tell You 'Bout My Girl

It's been far too long since I wrote a post about Allyson, so I decided to take the time today to bring you up to date. I hope you will forgive me if I do a bit of bragging; I just can't help being very proud of my girl.

Allyson at Painting with a Twist

Since my post in July 2021 about her first job, Allyson has attained two promotions. First, she became a monitor during her second summer as a lifeguard, which means she could work alone to oversee swimmers and supervise the facilities at various community pools. Just a few weeks later, she became a manager, which entailed supervising other lifeguards, helping ensure shifts were covered, and handling problems with guests. At the tender age of 16, she shouldered these new responsibilities admirably. 

Allyson and Three Lifeguard Friends

Allyson in Monitor Uniform

In Manager Uniform

She has been recommended for yet another promotion this upcoming season, as a lifeguard instructor. In this new role, she will earn significantly more money and will have the opportunity to impact other young workers as they learn crucial lifesaving skills. Before she can start this new phase of her career, she must complete even more rigorous physical and academic training than when she first became a lifeguard, and she must pass tests that many other lifeguards have failed. "What if I can't do it?" she asked recently. "It would be so embarrassing to try and fail." 

A Gift I Didn't Know I Wanted

If you've been reading a long time, you know that I have experienced some frustrations with my pets. I have one sweet cat and one rather mean cat, and both of them are very, very naughty. Their main vice is stealing food--sometimes right off our plates--and they have many other terrible habits, like clawing the furniture and occasionally even peeing on piles of laundry... which may or may have been lying on my bed for days waiting to be folded. 

Sometime last spring, Allyson asked if I might think about getting a dog. My first response was that we already had two pets too many, and my second was that I really am not a dog person. But she said having a dog at my house would really make her happy, so I promised to think about the idea. We prayed about it, and I promptly forgot all about it. 

In April, Allyson's former stepsister Morgan asked if we could keep Olive for a couple of weeks while she looked for another home. I agreed readily, thinking it would be a good chance to try out having a dog with no strings attached, and if it didn't work out, we could put the whole thing behind us.

Olive had been Allyson's dog, too, at her dad's house. They'd decided to get a puppy after Lola passed away, and they chose Olive because she looked a lot like her. (Lola had been my dog, too, until shortly after the divorce.) If you've been reading a very long time, you may remember that my fondness for Lola was tempered with aggravation over her perpetual mischief, such as the time she ate my favorite cloth diaper with the duckies on it right off the clothesline or the time she murdered my tomato plants. So I was surprised at the surge of tenderness I felt when I first met Olive. She resembles Lola so much that I often accidentally call her by that name.

Lola on Left, Olive on Right

Simply Wonderful

Last Saturday, the day of Ethan and Sumer's wedding, dawned chilly and overcast. Though it had seemed quite bearable when I arrived late in the morning, the temperature began dropping as sunset approached. By four o'clock, it was cold enough to set my teeth chattering despite the beautiful winter white coat I'd borrowed from my sister Emily, but I was grateful that at least it wasn't raining.

As Sumer slowly walked from the bridal suite toward the outdoor ceremony area, I asked to carry her train. I'd already extricated a leaf or two from the lacy hem, and I wanted it to be pristine when she walked down the aisle. At my side was Ethan's stepmother, Erica. Tottering over the paved walkway on numb toes in my unaccustomed heels, I alternated between worrying about breaking an ankle and savoring the gathering of in-laws, exes, and ex-laws to honor and celebrate with two young people whom we all loved.

At that moment, Allyson hurried around the corner in her own unaccustomed heels and a beautiful full-length, velvety green dress. "Mama," she called urgently. "Where have you been? You're the first to go down the aisle!" 

"What? I'm part of the procession?" 

"Yes! Ethan is walking you and Sumer's mom down the aisle first. Hurry up!" 

Procrastination, Preparation, and Anticipation

Last Saturday my boy became a husband! Although Ethan and Sumer were engaged for over a year, it still sort of crept up on me. I found myself scrambling at the last minute, as I do for most important events in my life... and the unimportant ones, too.

It began with Sumer's bridal shower, the first I'd ever hosted. I was nervous about all of it—the games, the decorations, the food—so I procrastinated about planning it until I'd nearly run out of time. But thanks to Pinterest and some advice from my boss and a coworker, it all came together nicely! I made way too much baked potatoes, grilled chicken, vegetable soup, and salad, but that was okay because we sent quite a lot home with my mom, who has been unable to cook since a fall on Labor Day weekend. 

For dessert we ate pumpkin-spice Nothing Bundt cake with thick cream-cheese frosting and my sister Emily's pineapple-sherbet punch, which she graciously made for me when she arrived, after picking up both the cake and our mother.

Allyson was in charge of decorations, and she made the party beautiful with a cute little marquis, a big banner, giant balloons, three little bouquets that doubled as prizes for the games, and a pink sparkly sash for the bride-to-be.

Allyson and Sumer

Precious in Our Sight

On Monday morning, I started my day the way I usually do, with prayers for my children. 

Ethan and His Fiancée, Sumer

Allyson - Dec 2021

In the last minutes between my daily mini trampoline workout and logging on to my laptop, I continued the prayer I'd been saying aloud for Allyson. "Help me love her like You do," I concluded. "I know you love her even more than I do. She is precious in your sight."

Mi casa tica / My Costa Rican House

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO

In November, I visited Costa Rica for the third time. I had planned to share many stories, but time got away from me. Here are a couple of stories that I've been working on here and there for weeks, and I hope to find time for more soon. As usual, I will write my stories in Spanish and then translate them to English so you can see my progress. Note that all grammar errors in the dialogue are mine. If you speak Spanish, you may also notice that I use the informal verb forms when I talk with Zeidy even though I call her usted (the formal word for you). This is the custom in Costa Rica. Everyone there is usted, even spouses, babies, and dogs. This is seen as a sign of respect. Yet most people use the verb forms and pronouns for tú in conversation, probably for clarity because the subjects of sentences are almost always omitted. This mixing of usted and tú used to drive me crazy and keep me confused, but I've learned to just go with it. (Honestly, I make so many other errors that this doesn't matter anyway.)

ENGLISH TRANSLATION AT BOTTOM

En noviembre visité Costa Rica por tercera vez. Tenía planeado compartir muchas historias, pero el tiempo se me escapó. Aquí hay unas historias en las que he estado trabajando durante unas pocas semanas, y espero encontrar tiempo para más pronto. Como de costumbre, voy a escribir mis historias en español y luego las traducir al inglés para que las personas que no hablan español puedan ver mi progreso. Si hablas español, probablemente puedes notar que uso las formas verbales informales cuando hablo con Zeidy aunque la llamo usted. Esta es la costumbre en Costa Rica. Todos allí son ustedes, incluso esposos, bebés y perros. Esto se ve como una señal de respeto. Sin embargo, la mayoría de la gente usa las formas verbales y los pronombres para tú en una conversación, probablemente para mayor claridad porque casi siempre se omiten los sujetos de las oraciones. En el pasado, esta mezcla de tú y usted me volvía loca y me confundía, pero he aprendido a dejar de seguir las reglas gramaticales. (En verdad, cometo tantos otros errores que esto no importa.)

[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]

Durante este viaje, no asistí la escuela de español, pero ciertamente aprendía a través de la inmersión.  Me quedé por dos semanas con mi amiga Zeidy, la hija de Doña Macha, con quien me había quedado durante mis otros viajes. Aunque dos años habían pasado, inmediatamente este lugar me sentí como mi hogar. Que extraño, porque toda allá es tan diferente, un mundo separado. 

Doña Macha, yo, Zeidy

La casa de Zeidy está un poco grande en comparación con otras, con tres habitaciones, una grande sala, una cocina pequeña y dos baños.  Cada cuarto tiene ventanas con pequeños rectángulos de vidrio que giran en bisagras como una persiana veneciana, y estas ventanas están siempre abiertas, aún cuando hay lluvia.  

No hay mosquiteros, y los bichos y las iguanas entran libremente. A veces, también entran los gatos pequeños como esta dulce gatita que se llama Cat (el apodo para Katerina). 

Casi todas las noches, Cat salió a través de la ventana de Zeidy y entró a través de mi ventana.  Se sentó en mi pecho o envolvió alrededor de mi cuello y durmió conmigo hasta la mañana.  Aunque usualmente prefiero no dormir con mascotas, me sentí tan cómoda con ella. Me recordé de mis gatas Arwen y CiCi, y me hizo que sentir como en casa.  En verdad, Cat era casi tan traviesa que CiCi: a ella le gusta que comer las flores artificiales y que cavar en el suelo de las muchas plantas verdes alrededor de la casa.

We're In Safe Hands with Allyson

In the weeks ahead of Allyson's 15th birthday, she started filling out job applications online, mainly for minimum-wage restaurant jobs that she might not have enjoyed much. She did want to work at Braum's Ice Cream and Dairy, most likely for the employee discount, but they never even acknowledged her application even though their sign said they were hiring. Despite the labor shortage that's been all over the news, she didn't get a single interview call during weeks of searching. I figured the problem might be her limited availability due to a very full soccer schedule. Or maybe it was her young age, but many of her friends had been working for months by then.

Although I didn't say it out loud, I was skeptical that she could find a job that would work with her erratic schedule. Due to the aforementioned soccer, she'd have to be out for up to a week at a time for tournaments and would be available only mornings some days and only evenings on others due to games and practices. Still, I felt sure she would nail the interview if she could just land one; Allyson is mature for her age and very articulate, as well as responsible and teachable.

The start of summer vacation came, and she was still jobless, but she made good use of her idle time by volunteering at the Botanic Garden. A few weeks earlier, she had searched for volunteer opportunities that fit with her prospective field of environmental science. She found the site, filled out the paperwork, and signed up for a virtual orientation all on her own. 

Although Allyson had never done any planting except for helping with a few family gardens when she was a very small girl, she was a natural. On her first day, she was planting bulbs in little pots. On other shifts, she transplanted plants, pruned trees, and trimmed topiary sculptures (bushes shaped like giraffes, elephants, etc.). When she came home from her shifts, it was much different than coming home from school, where most of her days are simply "fine." She told me all about not only the plants she'd cared for, but also about the interesting characters she met, such as a botanist from Russia. The majority of the volunteers are retirees, but Allyson felt comfortable conversing with them from the start. At the annual appreciation luncheon, she and the friend she brought along were the only people under 60, but she still had a great time. 

First Day on the Job

Despite the fun of learning a new hobby and meeting lots of people, Allyson still wanted gainful employment, yet she was almost too busy to apply for jobs, let alone work them. She continued to keep her eyes open for opportunities, but it was her father who found the right one. At their neighborhood pool one Friday, he struck up a conversation with the teenage lifeguard and learned two things: (1) the job was fun and easy; and (2) like everyone else around the country, they desperately needed new employees.

The timing was perfect, if a bit tight; a lifeguard training class was starting that Monday. All Allyson had to do was take about 15 hours of online training over the weekend and show up for the training. She had the option to have the training fee deducted from her future paychecks or to pay in advance. Either way, she would owe the money regardless of whether she could pass the rigorous physical requirements and the written exam. 

Of course, I knew that Allyson could swim because she'd learned at the age of three, when we got our pool at the old house. But I'd never thought of her as a particularly strong swimmer capable of rescuing a drowning person. "What do you have to do to pass?" I asked dubiously.