Christmas 1965

In November this year, I participated in National Novel Writing Month and wrote over 50,000 words by the deadline of November 30. The rough draft of the book I wrote is about my childhood, but it is not a true memoir or biography because, like all of us, I don't remember every single little detail of my childhood. Years blur and soften memories, but often not emotions. The following story is part of the book I wrote. The details aren't exact. For instance, I'm not positive it was 1965, but I was four or five years so. My memories of the importance of that Christmas are as fresh to me as yesterday. The story is written from an objective viewpoint since I wrote the whole book that way. In this story, I am Elaine (my true name) and Dee is my father. I hope the story reminds you of what Christmas truly is all about....love and grace for us all.

Christmas 1965

Christmas was always a wondrous time of the year for Elaine. She loved everything about it. She loved the smell of the fresh Christmas tree they bought at Wolf Nursery, putting up the lights and decorations, the music, the television specials, and the daydreams about what Santa Claus might bring her.

The first Christmas Elaine remembered was when she was four years old in 1965. There was a red tricycle she had seen at Levine’s that she very much wanted for Christmas that year. She didn’t think she would get it, however, because it was quite expensive and she didn’t feel she had been good enough that year to deserve such a wonderful gift. She soon forgot her deep yearning for the tricycle when one day Daddy told Elaine that he and Judy had bought Mother a new wedding ring and they needed her help with wrapping it up in a big box to surprise Mother. The wedding ring Mother had worn ever since she and Daddy married in 1934 was nearly worn thin and she had put it away before it wore out entirely. To Elaine it looked like a simple little gold ring, almost looking like a ring you could get out of a box of Cracker Jacks, but to Mother it was the most precious thing she owned. She told Elaine how beautiful it was when she received it on her wedding day.  The ring had finely etched flowers twined all around it and had been wider then. She had worn it every day for over 30 years. The flowers had long since worn off and the ring was thinning rapidly so she had put it away that year before it was all gone.

Mother’s wedding ring wearing out and her putting it away that year was sadly symbolic. Mother and Daddy recently had a rough time of it with regard to their marriage. They were always arguing and sometimes even yelling at each other, which scared Elaine. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if her parents decided to split up. One day Elaine’s parents’ fight was so bad that Mother had packed herself, Judy, and Elaine up in the car and driven to Hobbs, NM, muttering about divorce with bitter tears. By the next morning Mother’s anger had dissolved, so they once again packed up the car and then drove back to Lubbock. Elaine was very relieved about that!

After the trip to Hobbs, the fights between Mother and Daddy stopped, but they were still not as happy and sweet as they were before their trouble. The household was tense and Mother no longer kissed Daddy when he left for work each morning, which made Elaine sad. Daddy decided it was time to declare his love for Mother once again so he bought a beautiful wide white gold ring with a band of little diamonds on the top. He wanted to surprise Mother. He knew if he just wrapped the little jewelry box, Mother would immediately know what the gift was so he asked Judy and Elaine for help in disguising the gift. First they took the little jewelry box the ring came in and wrapped it in a bigger box. Then they took that bigger box and wrapped it in a bigger one and then a bigger one until finally it was in a very big box almost as big as Elaine herself. They put some heavy things in the big box to further disguise the wedding ring. Elaine was so excited about this great secret that she could hardly sleep on Christmas Eve. She wasn’t thinking about what she might get from Santa Claus and had practically forgotten the tricycle she wanted. She was more excited about Mother’s gift that year.

Christmas morning arrived and Elaine dashed into the living room, eager to get the gift unwrapping done so Mother could find her beautiful ring. Imagine Elaine’s surprise when she saw the pretty red bicycle sitting next to the Christmas tree with a big red bow on it! It was the exact one she wanted and there it was! She was so excited she jumped up and down, giving everyone a hug of thanks. Daddy said she could ride it in the house for the day since it was too cold to ride it outside. Elaine rode her tricycle around while Mother and Judy fixed breakfast. Mother always insisted that they eat breakfast before the Christmas presents were unwrapped. This year she made an exception about Elaine’s tricycle, since it wasn’t wrapped in the first place.

After breakfast, Elaine ran into the living room, ready for Mother to open her gift. Mother seemed disappointed that the gift from Daddy to her was so big. She had really hoped to get a new wedding ring, but apparently it wasn’t to be since the gift was so big. Elaine was fairly busting with glee as Mother started unwrapping the big gift. First Mother found the smaller gift inside and unwrapped it and then a smaller gift. She kept unwrapping the boxes as they got smaller and finally…she came to the jewelry box! Mother started crying even before she opened the box because she had figured out that Daddy had bought her a new wedding ring after all. Elaine was so excited and couldn’t understand why Mother was crying! She was supposed to be happy! “Mother, don’t cry! It’s a beautiful present and Daddy picked it out just for you! Open it! Open it! Open it!” Mother laughed and started to unwrap the little box. When she opened the box, she exclaimed, “Oh Dee! It’s beautiful! I don’t know what to say! It’s just perfect! How did you know my size?” Everyone started trying to tell the story at once, how Daddy had taken Judy to help him pick it out and to size the ring, and then how the three of them had pulled off the big surprise with the boxes. Elaine was as excited about Mother’s wedding ring as she was her own new tricycle. Now Mother would know how much Daddy loved her and all would be well again. The new wedding ring was a symbol of a renewal of their love that would remain for the rest of their lives. That Christmas was one of the best Elaine remembered. The Christmas spirit was strong at the Wood home because her parents were in love again and everyone was happy.

 

Veterans Day 2012, Remembering

These are my two brothers, John and Joe Wood. As you can see, they both served in the military. John went into the Navy first and a few years later, when Joe graduated from high school, he went into the Army. John sailed the seven seas on an aircraft carrier (the U.S.S. Nimitz I think) and Joe went first to Germany and then to the war that was in Vietnam. I'm very proud of my brothers for serving in the military. Both are gone now, but every Veterans Day, they both seem to be closer in spirit somehow. My uncle, Clyde Gill, served in the Marines during World War II. He served in the Asian Theater, fighting at Iwo Jima, and later helping to clean up and deal with the horrible aftermath of the bombs dropped on Japan.

The Wood family has continued to serve in the military, even into this generation. Those who served or are serving now include nephews Curtis Wood, George Cummings, Jesse Wood, and Jacob Wilcox (currently in Afghanistan). Fortunately, thus far in the 20th and 21st centuries, no family members have died in combat. Wounded, physically and emotionally, certainly, but not killed.

As I think of all the thousands and thousands of men and women who have served in the military since before we were even officially a country, I'm humbled. We take the military for granted oft times. At the beginning of wars or conflicts, most everyone is patriotic, waves flags, and supports the military. As has been seen in the last 10 years since the current war started, however, we once again take the military for granted and support wanes. Support for our veterans has waned over the years as well. I don't believe people are really calloused and uncaring about the war or supporting our military and veterans. I believe, instead, we've become weary and perhaps enured to the constancy of it. Those serving us in the military, although perhaps weary, have definitely not become enured, hardened, or blase' about their dedication to our country, their courage, their sacrifices, or the sacred price of freedom.

Let us then, this Veterans Day, this year, not let it go by without a moment of prayer for those serving now, a moment of remembrance and mourning for those lost fighting for our great country, and a moment of gratitude for the freedoms we enjoy because of our service men and women, both past and present.

 

Keeping Step

My daddy walked along
so fast and steady in his step,
while I skipped along
like a butterfly
just trying to keep step.

He went on walks for healing,
for you see, he nearly died.
I went on walks to be with him
and to see the clear, blue sky.

We walked along and talked along,
he tried to lead the way,
while I broke out with little dances
and delighted in the day.

Daddy's feet were fifty five,
while mine were only seven,
but we both enjoyed the walk
each day,
it seemed a lot like heaven.

As our feet have carried us
through thirty years since then,
I have aged and so has he,
but I'm still trying
to keep in step with him.

D. Elaine Wood-Lane
7/30/99

My dad, L.D. Wood, about whom this poem was written, died on November 24, 2006. Although he is gone now, I still try to keep in step with him. He was a good man, a faithful man, and a wonderful father.

Margaret Inez Gill--School Girl

Hi everybody!  Look at this random picture of Mother I found:

Inez Gill, Woodrow School

I don't know what year this was taken, but maybe 6th grade?  I had never seen this picture before. It's in bad shape, obviously and I'll try to clean it up some and post a better version soon. I wanted to share my find today, though, so here you are! Wasn't young Inez cute?

Woodrow School was a two-story schoolhouse. The lower grades were on the first floor and the upper grades were on the second floor. The school only went to the 8th grade at the time Mother, Mary, and Doris went there. I don't know when it became a 12 grade school, if ever. The school eventually consolidated with other nearby schools and became Cooper Independent School District, where Betty, John, Joe, and Judy all attended. Mother graduated from the 8th grade. If she had desired to go to high school, she would have had to travel to Lubbock High School, about 12 miles away, to do so. She wasn't that interested because, she said, "I was more interested in boys and getting married than going on to school."  I always had to smile at that comment. She repeated it numerous times through the years so I know it was true. Mary, Evelyn and Doris all did go to Lubbock High School and earned their high school diplomas. (Maybe they weren't as boy crazy as Mother?)

Mother was always an excellent student and made good grades. When I was a child, she was a stickler for spelling, grammar, and penmanship. She was especially insistent that I work on my penmanship. (I never did quite meet her standards.) So far as math, Mother could out-figure anyone I've ever met, even Daddy. I was constantly amazed as a kid at how fast and accurate she was with math problems, without a calculator of course. We would get to the checkout line at the grocery store and she would know exactly what she owed, down to the last penny! If she needed to figure out fabric yardage for clothes or draperies she was planning to sew, she had it figured out before someone else had grabbed paper or pencil.

Daddy also graduated from the 8th grade and then was finished with his formal education. The interesting thing is that, although neither Mother nor Daddy earned a high school diploma or went on to college, they were two of the best-educated people I've ever met. Daddy was especially well-read. He read anything he could get his hands on, but his favorite reading was "a good old bloody Western!"

So, this was Mother in her school days. I hope you've enjoyed seeing this picture as much as I enjoyed finding it! 

The Wood Farm

It has been a while since I have written and I apologize for that! I guess I let life get in the way of history. As always, my little posts in no way tell a complete story of our family history. I try my best to tell as much as I know and have learned over the years from stories passed down amongst the family and my own experiences.

 I recently found some lovely old pictures of the Wood family farm right before it was sold in 1930. I thought I would share those pictures and tell the story of the farm.

Wood farm, c. 1930

As I've shared before, George and Maud Wood along with their kids, Jewel and Harrel Wood, moved to Lubbock County about a mile south of the Carlisle Community in October 1913. George (Grandpa) Wood paid cash for a full section of land. The section was located between what is now west 34th and 19th streets, Milwaukee and Upland avenues. L.D. (Dad) was born the following year on January 23, 1914. Grandpa built a fine house and started clearing land immediately so he could plant his first cotton crop in the 1914 season.

Wood farmhouse, c. 1930

In 1920, during the Spanish Influenza Pandemic, everyone in the little family caught the flu. Grandpa contracted pneumonia and died within a few days. Dad was only six years old and Grandpa's death hit him particularly hard. Six months after Grandpa's death, Grandma married a con artist who was already married, unbeknownst to her. Within several months, the man's wife showed up at the Wood farm and Grandma learned her husband was a bigamist. He went to jail, the marriage was annulled and Grandma stayed single until Dad was about 12 years old. During this time Grandma and her children continued to farm cotton and were very successful. Dad described those years with happiness and contentment. He had a good childhood.

Milking barn, 1930

Grandma Wood married a man named Roy M. Wood (no direct relation to our branch of the Wood family.) Roy M. had several children and the family became what is now called a blended family. Roy M. had three children: James (Jim) Wood, Mary Wood, and Virginia Wood. Dad and Jim got along very well and stayed in touch throughout their lives. Jim moved to Oregon and settled there, marrying and having a family. Mary married a man named Lemon and they moved to Houston, never to return to West Texas. Virginia married Jake Waldrop and they lived, farmed, and raised a family in the Levelland area. Virginia loved Dad like a blood brother and would become quite defensive and offended if someone called her a stepsister. Virginia was loud and gregarious, which was the complete opposite of Dad, but he loved her like a blood sister too and they remained close all of their lives.

Grandma Wood and Roy M. (called the "old man" by Dad) became deeply involved with the Jehovah's Witnesses early in their marriage. Grandma had been a committed member of the Church of Christ all her life. Her dad was even a Church of Christ preacher. She was a charter member of Broadway Church of Christ. She raised her kids in the Church and of her four children, only Dad remained in the Church all of his life. When Grandma got so heavily involved in the Jehovah's Witnesses, Dad was shocked and felt betrayed as she turned away from what she had so firmly believed in and taught her kids all their lives. Grandma and Roy M. became so involved in the Jehovah's Witnesses that they attended conventions all over the midwest, often leaving the farm for the boys to tend for extended periods of time.

When Dad was just 16, everything came to a head. The Jehovah's Witnesses' leader (Judge Rutherford) was firmly convinced, and lead his followers to believe, that Armageddon ws just around the corner. Jehovah's Witnesses were urged to sell their properties, give up all their worldly goods and shackles, and prepare for Armageddon when the world as they knew it would end and the thousand year reign of true believers would begin with a new world order and no one would own individual property. Dad was shocked when Grandma and Roy M. took up the call and decided to sell their farm. The problem with this plan was that Grandma didn't own the farm completely. The farm had been left to her and her four children. Harrel had left the area and wasn't particularly attached to the farm so he felt no remorse in signing over his portion of it. Jewel and Ray had become Jehovah's Witnesses so they easily signed over her portion as well. Dad was the hold out on the deal. He refused to sign away his right to the farm and a great rift arose between he and his mother. He couldn't believe she had been so easily duped and would do something as foolish as selling the farm for next to nothing just because an overly zealous religious leader said that they should. Apparently the battle between Dad and his mother lasted for a little while. The ultimate betrayal to Dad occurred when Grandma had one of his Price cousins forge Dad's name on the bill of sale/quit claim. The farm was sold for practically nothing and Grandma sold or gave away all of their farming equipment, horses, everything and went to Ohio to await Armageddon.

Dad was 16 years old when the farm was sold. This event was a huge defining moment of his life. He suddenly went from being a fairly well-to-do land owner to a penniless young man on his own. He was devastated and very angry. As a testament to his already well-developed character, however, he didn't feel sorry for himself very long or allow himself to remain at loose ends. He found a sharecropper's farm for rent in the Woodrow area and started farming for himself, working to buy the equipment and animals he needed to plant and farm the very next growing season. The old Wood farm was sold in 1930 so that was his first season farming for himself.

L.D. Wood, Farmer, 1930's

In the end, for the future generations of the Wood family, the sale of the Wood family farm and Dad moving to the Woodrow area was a good thing. His farm was about a mile down the road from the Gill family and, of course, he eventually met and married Inez Gill in 1934 when he was 20 years old. Their marriage lasted 66 years until her death in January of 2001.

Periodically throughout his life, Dad would tell the story of how his mother lost her mind, betrayed him, sold away his inheritance, and, in a sense, abandoned him. It strongly affected him, but he moved on and made a life for himself. He always loved his mother, but with less intensity than before. He took care of her all of her days, especially after Roy M. passed away. Armageddon didn't come, of course, so Grandma frequently needed help and assistance.

All his life Dad would return to the "home place" as he called it to see the crops there and investigate things. Sunday afternoon drives often took us by there and Dad would tell me of what it looked like when he was growing up and what life was like then. His heart was attached to the land, even though it was no longer his. A golf course was put in on part of the land and is still there. Eventually, in the last 25 years, the land was developed and now is covered with a high end subdevelopment. The big trees that were planted in 1914 were still there the last time I drove by. I, myself, find those trees to be a touchstone and a symbol of hope. Those trees are like our family. They started as tiny saplings, grew and survived through decades and now are strong and tall, deeply rooted. Just like our family.



July 4th Memories

I have so many great memories of previous 4th of Julys that it is hard to know where to begin. I wanted to share a few.

One of my first July 4th memories took place when I was of elementary school age. I was terrified of fireworks and firecrackers because they were so loud, yet I wanted to be part of the celebration and had developed a keen desire to have sparklers. My neighborhood friends had sparklers the year before and I thought they were so pretty. I begged and begged for sparklers. We went to Joe and Evelyn's house for a July 4th cookout, the first of many through the years. We had so much fun and when we went home, Daddy presented me with a box of sparklers! He lit one and tried to hand it to me. I totally freaked out! It scared me to death somehow. I ran into the house and locked myself in my bedroom, complete with sliding the dresser in front of my bedroom door! I was so ashamed of being afraid. Daddy and Mother stood outside on the front lawn and burned several sparklers for me so I could watch the beauty from my window. (Were they great parents or what?)  The next year I overcame my fear and played with the sparklers myself and was so proud! We used that little box of sparklers for probably 5 years.

As the years passed it became tradition for the family to go to Joe and Evelyn's for a cookout on Independence Day. Joe became a master griller and, after they moved to the country, we'd finish the day with fireworks and firecrackers after dark. So much fun! After Craig and I married, we continued to join in that tradition. The second summer we were married (1983) was excessively hot, much like this summer. We lived in a house with no air conditioning and locked it up tight before we went to Joe's. We came home to melted candles everywhere! Even our big fat unity candle from our wedding was melting. It was bent over double over the edge of the table it was sitting on and was almost comical, but I cried nonetheless.

The 4th of July in 1987 we took the boys to a parade downtown. They each received little U.S. flags and were playing with them.  We were at home, starting our own cookout tradition as Joe had passed away the year before. I was in the kitchen when I heard crying and wailing of epic proportions coming from the boys' playroom. Craig and I rushed in and found Nat impailed in the head by the tip of one of those little flags! We took him to the ER, which was super busy with other July 4th casualties. The doctor had to carefully remove the flag tip and then repair Nat's wound. I'm not sure who cried more, Nat or Josh. Actually, I think Josh did because he was so upset and worried that he had hurt Nat.

One of my very favorite July 4th memories comes from 2006. Daddy was living in the nursing home. The home had their own form of celebration. They hosted a cookout on their patio and the residents ate hotdogs, hamburgers, watermelon, and, if they wanted, bottles of near-beer. We went to see Daddy and his eyes were shining like sparklers themselves because he and some of the other men had sat on the patio and drank beer! He was like a little boy who had gotten away with something and was relishing every bit of it. He was so cute! At first I didn't realize it was near-beer and kind of flipped out, but a nurse hastily assured me it was non-alcoholic beer. Daddy didn't know that, however, and we never told him. It was probably one of the happiest 4ths he had enjoyed in a long time, hangin' with the guys and drinkin' beer!

My most recent special 4th of July memory comes from five years ago today. I moved to Colorado Springs to join Alan and start an entirely new and different life. I was excited about moving, but deeply grieved to be leaving my boys behind in Lubbock. Ok, they weren't exactly boys any longer. They were grown men who were fully able to live without their mother's constant presence. I, on the other hand, wasn't sure I could live without theirs. It was the true cutting of the apron strings and I felt like my heart was being physically removed from my chest.

Early early that morning Alan, the boys and I loaded up the U-Haul truck. I loaded up my pretty Buick with all the fragile things which included our two elderly cats, Sonic and Colette, and Buddy, my happy Chihuahua. That 500 mile trip from Lubbock, Texas to Colorado Springs, Colorado was the longest 500 miles of my life! I cried all the way to Plainview at least while the cats meowed loudly and Buddy looked like he would prefer to hide under the seat. Sonic and Colette were NOT happy about being in carriers in the back seat of a speeding car. I tried everything to quiet them. Eventually I blasted on my music, thinking at least I could drown out the cats' noise. They continued to yowl until...my Elvis Presley CD came on.  Miraculously, they both hushed!  As long as Elvis was singing, they were fine. I must have heard that CD 15 times on that trip. I love Elvis, but frankly I was sick of him by the time we arrived in the Springs! I think I've only listened to that CD once in the intervening five years.

When we arrived at our apartment in the Springs and I got out of the car, I completely fell in love with the entire area. It had rained just before we arrived and the smells of wet pine and earth were the best welcome committee anyone could ever want. We only unloaded the animals and a few essentials that evening. We ate something and then, from our open second floor bedroom window, we watched the fireworks from Pikes Peak. It was one of the most lovely things I'd ever experienced in my life. I was enchanted.

Moving to Colorado has been a grand adventure. I was terrified to move here because  I had lived in the flatlands of West Texas or Eastern New Mexico my entire life. I knew Lubbock inside and out. I had worked at Texas Tech for 22 years. I had friends and family there, including my sons. Would I be able to adjust? Would I find new friends? Would my sons forget me or would they need me and I'd be too far away to help them? Would I find a boss as wonderful and great as Dr. Haragan? I truly was awash with worries.

Over the last five years Alan and I have bought a house and made a home we love. I have friends all over the Springs. I also still have my friends from Texas! My sons not only didn't forget me, but we seem to have grown closer which defies logic. They survived without me and have even flourished. Both are in college now. Nat met and married a lovely young lady and gave me the daughter I always wanted. Josh has been dating a great girl for two years whom I also love. I worked in several different places here before finding my niche at Bold Technologies. I love my work and my coworkers. Work is a joy to me. Of course, no one can replace Dr. Haragan. He's still the best boss I ever had and I miss working with him dearly. (More than just being my boss, he became my second dad in many ways and was so, so good to me when Daddy became ill and passed away.)

So, on this 4th of July in Colorado Springs, I am happier than I've ever been. I love our home. I love the city. I love the beauty of the mountains.  I adore my husband and enjoy him so much it's a little scary sometimes. I'm proud of our city that underwent so much stress and fear last week, but pulled together and will grow back together. Life is good! Happy 4th everybody! Let's make some more great memories today!

Waldo Canyon Fire

On Saturday afternoon, June 23, 2012, our house had just been inspected by our insurance claims adjuster for damage done a huge hail storm a couple of weeks ago. The adjusters were about to leave and we were standing in the front yard when we noticed a sudden plume of smoke over toward the mountains on the west side of town. We were all curious about the plume as it appeared so quickly and seemed to be growing exponentially. One of the adjusters, Cory, was from Pennsylvania and was to go home on July 9th. He commented that if that plume was more than just a small incident, he might have to stay longer.

I'm sure now that he will be here for a good deal longer than July 9th for the localized plume developed into a raging fire that will forever be known in Colorado Springs history as the Waldo Canyon Fire. At first people to the south of the fire in Manitou Springs were evacuated on Saturday as the fire burned south. Sunday those people were allowed to go home. Special firefighters came from all over the United States and Canada to help battle the fire which had quickly grown into a several thousand acre monster.

On Monday the battle against the fire raged and it seemed it might be contained with the help of the special force of firefighters. 5% containment was obtained and, although that isn't a big number, it encouraged everyone.

Tuesday afternoon the temperature reached 101 degrees, an all time record for Colorado Springs, and the winds shifted to the northeast. The fire became a monster that was headed, fast, directly towards  homes and neighborhoods in the northwest part of town. Thousands of people were mandatorily evacuated and traffic became a nightmare as people tried to gather the few bits and pieces that meant the most to them and evacuate. The monster kept coming. The photos and video seen on social media and television were an exact replication of what I've always imagined hell to look like with black, yellow smoke, ashes falling, and a horribly eerie red and yellow fire monster bearing down on a suddenly fragile and vulnerable place.

Photo by Dean J Radice via Facebook

My Facebook page lit up with news of friends being evacuated and horror stories of what was left behind. Fear and panic were the predominant emotions expressed and I felt them all within my gut and heart. Alan and I were glued to the continuous live coverage of the fire on KKTV, as well as Facebook, Twitter, and email. We were praying all the while that our friends and everyone else would be safe. We learned that our office building, Bold Technologies, was in the evacuation zone and in the path of the fire. (The building is fine, but still in the evacuation zone at this time.)

I think when it all become truly real and devastating was when the newscasters reported that the Flying W Ranch, a Colorado Springs institution since the 50's, had burned to the ground. The newscasters were suddenly overcome by grief and exhaustion and openly wept on air. The quick, total destruction of the Flying W was devastating because so many of us here in the Springs had been there, but what I think we were really weeping over was the fact that it stood on the edge of the neighborhoods being evacuated. The monster was growing and there seemed to be no way to stop it. I had the feeling I had as a child in Lubbock on the night of the huge tornado in 1970. Something devastating was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn't in the direct path. I wasn't in direct danger, but still a feeling of helpless terror washed over me.

Yesterday morning we awoke to skies heavily darkened by smoke and ash that smelt of something innocent--campfires or perhaps cookouts. The air wasn't innocent. It caused my throat, eyes, and lungs to burn and sting. If I stayed outside longer than five minutes, my stomach began hurting and my breathing became shallow. As I stared into the smoky haze, I felt shell shocked, numb, and unable to grasp the horror of the night before. Alan suggested we get out of town to an area where the air was clear. There was nothing we could do by staying at home. We had offered our home to evacuees. We were praying without ceasing. We packed up Buddy and headed southwest. I felt terribly guilty about leaving, but relieved to escape the smoke and helplessness bearing down on me because there was nothing I could do to help anyone.

Between 200-300 homes were destroyed Tuesday night. Thousands are still evacuated and will remain so until they're sure they have all embers out in the neighborhoods gutted by flames. It is unknown if any people have been killed. Pictures abound of the destroyed neighborhoods. They remind me of pictures of London after the German bombings in World War II.

Photo by James Matthews via Facebook

This morning my shocked numbness wore off. I am bowed by grief for all those people who have lost everything. I've imagined the shock, the worry, and the anguish of those who have lost their homes and all the memories built into them. Where do they go from here?

The Waldo Canyon Fire isn't over. It is still an active, living monster intent on devouring whatever lies in its path and is fed by winds and whatever fuel it finds along the way. Firefighters and military are trying hard to block all paths the fire might take. Bulldozers, earth movers, and airplanes dropping water and fire retardants are all tools in the arsenal to block the fire and put it out.

I realize this morning that although I feel helpless and ineffectual, I am not. I can pray. I can reach out to those who might need help. I can lean on my God and know He will help us all through this. All we have to do is ask.

Family History-Joe Leslie Wood, Part II

And now for the rest of the story...
Several months after I was born, Joe finally entered the United States Army and went to basic training at Fort Carson here in Colorado Springs. As anyone who has gone through basic training can tell you, it was tough. One day while standing in formation, a plane flew over and Joe looked up. His training officer caught him looking at the plane and said, "If you like looking at planes so much, lie down on the ground and watch them as long as you want!" He then proceeded to make Joe lie down and watch the sky for hours. It was cold and it started snowing, but still Joe couldn't get up and go inside. Eventually he was allowed to go inside, but ended up with a case of pneumonia from the episode.

I'm not sure if Joe went directly to Germany after basic training, but I do know it wasn't long after. He was stationed in West Germany for several years. In the meantime, Daddy finally became disgusted with farming and we moved from our farm in Eastern New Mexico to live in Lubbock, Texas. (While in New Mexico Daddy's crop was hailed out many times and that will kill the spirit of any farmer eventually.) After we moved to Lubbock, Daddy and Mother eventually both found jobs; Daddy with the Texas State Highway Department and Mother with Gibson's Discount Store as a clerk. Judy started attending Lubbock High School and I went to daycare.

I had my third birthday and it seems like that was when my brain started recording memories. I remember all kinds of things starting around then. One of my most clear and poignant memories was when Joe came home from Germany. Everyone kept talking about Joe coming home and preparing things. I had heard Joe's name a lot and knew he was my brother, but had no memory of him. Joe decided to surprise us with his actual arrival and gave no details of when he would arrive home. I remember Daddy was sitting on the front porch steps, smoking a cigarette and the rest of us were inside the house. A taxi drove up and there was Joe, grinning from ear to ear because he had successfully surprised everyone! After greeting and talking with Daddy for a little bit outside, he came inside and I was scared to death of him! He was this big, tall stranger with bright blue eyes and a booming voice in a military uniform and coming straight at me. He picked me up and I started crying. He began to win me over almost immediately though. He was so nice and kept saying, "Don't you remember me baby sister? I'm your big brother, Joe!" I was completely won over a few minutes later when he told me he brought me a present from Germany and proceeded to dig a handful of German coins from his duffel bag, just for me! He even got down on the floor with me to show me the coins and play with me a bit. From then on and forever, I loved Joe to pieces and we were bonded as sisters and brothers are supposed to be. (For the record, he called me "baby sister" for the rest of his days. In my teens when he would drop by the hospital where I worked and boom out, "I came by to check on my baby sister!" I'd be outwardly mortified, but inwardly delighted.)

When Joe came home from Germany

Joe was stationed primarily at Fort Hood in Killeen, Texas after his return from Germany. When he had leave, he would come home to Lubbock to visit. On one of those visits, he met and started dating a beautiful girl named Evelyn Sheumaker. When I first saw Evelyn, I was enchanted. She had dark hair, sparkly green eyes and a smile and joy about her that just glowed. She was always so sweet to me, picking me up, holding me on her lap. She even gave me a Santa Claus she had for a decoration in her little apartment. I wanted Joe to marry Evelyn so she could be in our family forever. Apparently Joe was just as enchanted by Evelyn as I was because he married her!

Joe & Evelyn Wood, Wedding Day
September 7, 1965

In 1966, Joe received new orders and was assigned to Vietnam. I think Daddy's reaction, when he heard this, was, "Oh hell!"  By this time Mother and Daddy had bought the house on 36th and Salem in Lubbock. Evelyn found a duplex to rent exactly one block away. The visits between those duplexes were a sustaining force for all of us while Joe was in Vietnam. She would come down to visit and there would be evenings of playing Spades and laughter. Judy and I would often go down to her duplex and spend a girls' night with her. I adored those nights. I got to be "one of the big girls!" Evelyn was pregnant and on April 28, 1967, Robin Renee Wood was born. To say I was excited is a vast understatement. I had other nieces and nephews (LeAnne, Sally, George, Curtis and Deanna), but I had not met any of those kids yet and had not quite grasped the concept of being an aunt until Robin was born. I was just a little kid and being an aunt to other little kids was confusing. When Robin was born, however, I was the big kid and Robin was a baby. I loved being an aunt then!

While we were at home delighting in the new baby, Joe was in the jungles of Vietnam. He was in the armored tank division and, although I know few details of his time there, I do know they were hellish. Daddy and I would watch Walter Cronkite every night to hear the news about Vietnam. Daddy knew Joe's division information and would watch intently to see if his boy was in danger or amongst the list of the missing or the dead. It was a very stressful time for us, but nothing compared to what Joe went through, of course.

Joe in Vietnam

When Joe came home, he was different. He was still Joe, loud and lively when with family, but there was a certain heaviness in him that hadn't been there before. He drank often in an effort to release that heaviness. It couldn't be washed away. He had seen too much and lived through too much, all before he was 30. Nonetheless, he carried on and was happy with his young family that was growing. On December 5, 1968, Leslie Jean Wood, his second daughter was born. On February 9, 1970 Jesse Joe Wood was born and on November 28, 1974, his last child was born, Jason Dean Wood.

Joe, Curtis, Ray & John Wood
Christmas 1970 (Cowboys & Popguns)

During the years following his time in Vietnam, Joe worked as a police officer for the City of Lubbock and then as a sheriff's deputy for Lubbock County, working his way up to Chief Deputy. In his official "off" hours he also worked with Uncle Dolf (Dolf Dean Qualls) on his farm, earning extra money along the way. Amidst all that he took courses at Wayland Baptist College and earned a Bachelor's Degree in English. Eventually he and Evelyn and family moved out in the country when Joe took a job as Chief Deputy of Hockley County. Tiring of law enforcement and by mutual agreement, he left it and became a car salesman with great success.

I could tell a hundred stories from my memory bank about Joe. I will settle for two that are very personal and important to me. Craig and I had been married for 3 years and had a new baby, Nathanael. Times were tough for us and we moved in with Mother and Daddy for a brief time. Daddy and Craig ended up having a pretty serious disagreement that could have come to serious blows but for the fact that Craig refused to retaliate. I was completely torn apart when Craig called me at work. We had to move out and we had to do it immediately. Craig picked me up from work and I was pretty much inconsolable. How could this happen, for heaven's sake? As we drove up to the house, Joe walked out and I've never been so happy to see anyone in my life! He had come to help us pack and move our things and to ease the way. I never will forget Joe pulling me close into his arms and saying, "Now baby sister, do not let this upset you too bad or make you think too hard of Daddy. This has happened with both of us boys and is nothing that can't be healed. Daddy loves you and is too protective, but it'll be ok. I'm here for you. If you need anything, I'm here for you. You know that, right, baby sister? I love you!"  Joe helped us move things out, kept the peace, and...he was right. The situation did heal and was forgotten. I've never forgotten, however, how my big brother was with me when I needed him the most.

Craig got hired by the post office in September, 1986 and we moved to Memphis, Texas. It was a wonderful time in my life that I'll always cherish. I got to stay home with my babies, Nat, age 2, and Josh, age 1. The town was friendly and our life there was good. I missed my family back in Lubbock so we all wrote letters back and forth. We were only about 120 miles from Lubbock, but before cell phones or email, it seemed like we were a great distance away. In the months prior to our move to Memphis, Mother had experienced a major heart attack followed by open heart surgery. Then we lost our dear brother, John, on August 24th. Life was a roller coaster and I desperately desired to stay in touch with my family and let them know how much I loved them all.

On Veteran's Day that year, November 11th, they had a show on television about a Vietnam veteran who was suffering the effects of Agent Orange. I think John Ritter played the soldier. It brought to life to me all that Joe had gone through during the war and all the intervening years since. He was still fighting the heaviness and still trying to drink it away, but still working, living, and enjoying life as well. He had recently had several skin cancers removed that were thought to be linked to his own Agent Orange exposure. Somehow the television program made it absolutely crucial to me to write Joe a letter to tell him how much I loved him, how proud I was that he was my brother, and how I prayed for him all the time. I wanted to see him, touch him and somehow make sure he was all right.

Joe didn't write me a letter back, but instead called me in response. He told me how much he loved me too and how much he wanted to see us soon. He and Evelyn asked Craig and I and the whole family to his house for Thanksgiving. I was thrilled! To get to be with the whole family at Joe's for Thanksgiving would be heaven. However, about a week later I had a terrible dream that was so real, I awoke crying. I dreamed that Joe was in a car wreck and was killed. I couldn't quit sobbing after I awoke. I had only experienced one other Irish dream before then and it came true so I was very afraid of this dream.

When Craig and I went to Lubbock, Sally and Betty had come for Thanksgiving too. It was going to be a grand celebration! Joe came by Mother and Daddy's and then asked if Sally and I wanted to come out that night (Wednesday) to spend the night and visit. I hated to leave the boys and Craig, but I was eager to spend time with Joe and his family so I went. On the way out of town Joe told us he'd been in a car accident over by Brownfield Highway and Spur 327. It had been pretty serious, but Joe wasn't hurt badly and I was greatly relieved! That's what that dream had been about! We had a fun time that night with Joe, Evelyn and the kids and the next day everyone else came for Thanksgiving.

Joe and I didn't have a lot of time to visit by ourselves, but it was fine. As the old saying goes, a good time was had by all!  My heart was full of love and joy. Somehow when it came time to leave, I could hardly bear to do it. I was crying, but trying to hide it. Joe came over to take me in his arms once again, like he'd done ever since I was a baby and was crying. He said, "Baby sister, don't cry! We'll see each other again before you know it! We might even come up to Memphis to see y'all sometime. You'll never know how much I appreciated your letter or the other letters you've written me over the years. I've always known you loved me and you know I love you! You're my baby sister!" I was consoled somewhat as we backed out of the drive and tried to avoid running over his bird dogs that followed us all the way down the road.

On Christmas Eve, Jody, Craig's mom, and her sister Dorothy and Dorothy's husband L.C. came to Memphis for Christmas. It would be the first Christmas the boys were old enough to enjoy Christmas plus Craig and I had just bought an old Victorian house with lots of room. We were all quite excited and full of the Christmas spirit. I made homemade cheese soup for supper. It was so lovely and cozy, but I felt a pall in the middle of the evening and could not shake it. I became quite sick and was sick all night long.

At 7:15 on Christmas morning Daddy called and asked to speak to Craig. I was speechless. Christmas morning and no Christmas wish? Simply a request to speak to Craig? "Daddy, what's wrong? You can tell me. You don't have to tell Craig. I know something's wrong! What is it?"  "Elaine, I'd rather talk to Craig, but...gosh, you're stubborn! Ok. Are you sitting down? Joe was in a terrible car accident last night." "Is he ok? Was he hurt badly? IS HE OK?" "No, Little Bit, he's not. He didn't make it. He's gone." My heart stuttered and stopped, shredded in an instant, then began beating again in a frantic rush. I fell to the bed I was sitting on and started wailing. Craig picked up the phone. I had always thought wailing an old-fashioned Jewish tradition, but that morning I experienced it for myself. It expresses pain that is too much to bear or even acknowledge. When the mind can't fathom a truth of pain, the spirit takes over and wails to God. My Joe was gone, never to come back. Our Joe was gone. Never to return.

He isn't gone, though, really, is he? He lives on in our hearts and memories. He lives on in his children and his grandchildren and now great-grandchildren. His blue eyes twinkle at me from so many of his continuing family. His laughter rings in our hearts. And, as he said to me that Thanksgiving evening, "We'll see other soon before you know it!" I know that is true.

Joe, John, Betty, Judy & Elaine Wood
The only time all five of us were together.
Mother & Daddy's 50th Anniversary, June 6, 1984

Family History: Joe Leslie Wood, Part I

Joe Leslie Wood was born in a hospital in Lubbock, Texas on June 13, 1943. He was the first baby in the L.D. and Inez Wood family born in a hospital, primarily due to the fact that World War II was in full swing and doctors were scarce. The days of doctors going to homes to spend hours or days delivering babies was over. Joe's birth was the most difficult one for Mother. She said no one would tell her what was wrong, but she felt he was breech and was very worried about him. (Eventually, many years later, she got Dr. Hunt to admit that Joe was born breech. They were unable to turn him until the very last minute.) Joe Leslie was born with a full head of black hair, bright blue eyes, and a full set of lungs. I don't blame him for having a screaming fit after such a traumatic birth! He deserved it! Joe weighed 7 pounds, 7 ounces, which, coincidentally, is exactly what I weighed when I was born. Mother was in the hospital for a full week after having Joe so that both of them could recover better.

Joe Leslie Wood, Age 1
Being the third child born into the family, he ended up being firmly in the middle of the five of us. Mother described him as quiet as a child, but declared often over the years, "Doris Elaine, you and Joe are the loudest kids of the whole bunch! I don't know why you both are so loud or where you got that!" Well, we know Daddy didn't have a loud voice so I'll let you surmise the rest yourself. Joe and I weren't always loud. We both loved to read and readers aren't perpetually loud, after all. True, Joe could amp up the volume in social situations and was truly the life of any party, especially family parties. Things could be rather tame and quiet and then Joe would walk in and say, "Hello 'dere!" in his loud, friendly way and the whole party was immediately more lively and fun. To this day I can still hear him say that and it always brings a smile to my face.

Joe was a good kid growing up and never got into too much trouble. Of course, there was the time Daddy caught John and Joe smoking behind the barn. Then there was the time that Daddy, Mother and the girls went to town and Joe ended up getting shot in the mouth with a BB gun. Daddy had given the boys strict instructions not to even get the BB gun out while at the farm alone, but you know what happened. The moment the dust from the car had settled down, that BB gun was out! They were shooting at tin cans on the fence, a la cowboy movie style. John was shooting and actually hit a can, but the BB richocheted off the can and zinged its way straight to Joe's lower lip! It was bleeding pretty good, but the BB was lodged. The boys didn't tell Mother and Daddy anything about it when they got back home because they both knew they'd be in big trouble if the truth were found out. Joe hurt for days as the BB wound festered up. He started running fever. He was in an awful fix. Mother and Daddy had noticed the wound, but didn't know what caused it or how bad it really was.
Finally Joe went to Daddy and told him what happened. Now, wouldn't you think that most parents would run their kid to the doctor to have the BB removed? Well, of course we would do that nowdays, but this was back in the early 50's and the family lived many miles outside of town. They often did their own emergency doctoring. Daddy sterilized his pocketknife, sterilized Joe's mouth, and slit his lip just enough for the BB to pop out. Then Mother and Daddy cleaned up the wound, kept it doctored until he healed and that was that. Daddy did ask the boys after the home surgery, "You boys ever going to play with the BB gun when I tell you not to anymore?" "No sir." "Good! Let this be a lesson for you!" And that was that.

Mother said as a boy Joe was forever falling around the yard, pretending to be shot, and dying in grand fashion like the cowboys in his favorite movies. She said it could take him 10 minutes to die in dramatic fashion while she'd be laughing at him out the kitchen window. He loved his Westerns!

In our family there seemed to be two sets of kids. Betty and John were closer to one another and Joe and Judy were closer to one another. Part of this was because of the spacing of the kids. Betty and John had each other for several years before Joe came along and then came Judy. When Betty and John grew up and left home first, Joe and Judy were the ones left behind.

The year Joe was graduating from high school, 1961, Mother became pregnant with me to her great astonishment. She was quite worried that Joe and Judy, but especially Joe, would be embarrassed by the fact that his mother was pregnant as he was graduating from high school. Fortunately, Joe wasn't that kind of kid and even seemed somewhat excited.  Joe had planned to enter the Army immediately upon graduating from high school. In light of the fact that Mother was pregnant and on strict orders to do no heavy work or even stand for any length of time (she had miscarried two babies quite far along between Judy and I), Daddy and Mother asked Joe to wait to join the Army until after I was born. Daddy needed Joe's help that summer with the crop and especially with irrigation. Joe agreed to wait. Joe and Judy both worked like troopers that summer and fall. Joe in the fields with Daddy and Judy primarily in the house with Mother.

After I was born, apparently I was a little colicky and a night owl who only required 4-6 hours of sleep a day. When everyone else would be exhausted and giving up on ever soothing me, Joe would pick me up and I'd settle right down. I think that is perhaps when we bonded, but maybe that's my overactive imagination.

Stay tuned for more of Joe's story in the week ahead!

Wood Family Pictures Pop Quiz

Before I post part 1 of Joe's story, I wanted to share some old pictures I found today that I had not seen in a long time, if ever.  See if you can guess who these people are! 

  

D-Day, 1934 or the marriage of L.D. and Inez Wood

Today marks the 78th anniversary of the day L.D. and Inez Wood were married in Clovis, NM before a Baptist preacher with only Harrel and Pauline Wood as witnesses. They went to Clovis because in NM, no premarital blood tests or waiting period were required. When Daddy and Mother decided they wanted to get married, they didn't want to wait 3 days to do it! So they drove the 100 miles to Clovis to marry. It should be noted that at the time they married, most young couples in the Lubbock area went to Clovis to get married. It was the middle of the Great Depression and only the most wealthy citizens could afford to have a wedding with all the trappings that people have now.

Every year on Daddy and Mother's wedding anniversary, Daddy would joke about how he was tricked by that ol' Baptist preacher. "I thought the contract was only for a year and then you had a choice about renewing. Come to find out, it was forever!"  Daddy would say this with a twinkle in his eye and a wry grin while Mother would say, "Oh, Dee!" while blushing prettily and grinning right back at him. They flirted this way with each other every year. Their marriage lasted 66 years and I attribute part of their marital success to the fact that they still had that spark and flirted with and teased each other. The other part of their marital success was simply the fact that they were married in a time where divorce was not considered a true option and they were both stubborn on that point. They had some problems when I was very young, but their stubbornness and love kept them together. As I overheard Mother say one day after a particularly big fight, "If he thinks I'm going to divorce him and leave this house and drag Elaine around from pillar to post, he's got another thing coming! I'm not going anywhere!"  So home she went and that was the end of even a whisper of a thought of ending the marriage.

Daddy would sometimes joke about the fact that he married Mother ten years before D-Day, the Allied invasion of Western Europe in 1944.  He said his own personal D-Day was when he married Mother, took her home to be his wife, and she invaded and took over everything! He was pretty firmly convinced that she did more damage. The truth was, he loved Mother and she loved him. They were quite different from each other, but it worked. He found her fascinating and fun. He was her rock.

Aren't we all glad that they found each other and had a lifetime of love?  None of us would be here without them!  Happy anniversary Mother and Daddy!

Family History--The Cooley Link

30 years ago today Craig Cooley and I were married. It was a beautiful, joyous day full of hope and love, family, friends, tears and laughter. People very dear to me participated in the day. Terry Looney, our former youth minister, performed the ceremony. Barry and Kellye Taylor were our best man and matron of honor. Alan Mahaffey served as wedding photographer and, as our wedding gift, gave us the photos to mark the day. Some of our best friends sang for the wedding. Our families were there in nearly full force--parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. My sister Betty hand sewed my wedding dress, which is still a beautiful work of art. I still have and will always cherish that dress because Betty made it with hours and hours of skill and love. (I can't believe I ever fit into it and at the time it was even a tiny bit big. Was I really that small?)

Craig and I have now been divorced for 21 years and you might think it odd that I would post about this day. What I want you to know is that, although the marriage didn't last, it was the beginning of the next link, a good link, in the family history. Craig and I hold no bitterness or anger toward one another. We were friends before and are now. Best of all, out of our love came our two handsome sons, Nathanael Alan Cooley and Joshua Blake Cooley, who are the pride and joy of our lives. Nat and Josh are the next links in our line of the family. They will have children and the Cooley and Wood family will continue to live through generations to come, hopefully. (As a side note, boys, I want grandkids, but only when it is the right time for you and your family. No pressure, honest!)

Family history isn't always perfect and tied up with a big red bow. As a matter of fact, most families aren't perfect. That's what makes them real and interesting, isn't it? Family history, good, bad, and ugly is always part of who we are and who we become. I love my family. I like the person I've become because of my family and my history. I am thankful to God beyond measure for the gift of my sons. Without that wedding day 30 years ago, I could not say that. God is good.

Memory, words, colors, prayers and God

This week has been such that I'm rather tired of computers...and my own limited memory. (I changed the password to my mini laptop and despite racking my brain and trying a couple of recovery programs, my mini is still locked.) I'm writing this brief post on my iPod.

I received my latest copy of Southern Living today and I was struck by how much I love printed magazines. They're slick, colorful, and full of ideas and wonder. They require no passwords and if you forget to bookmark your page, no matter! Just flip through and voila! Instant smile. It's the little things that make life good.

My friends' husband had major heart surgery this week. He's doing well, but I worried a lot about both Paul and Becky. I have to say that I've been talking to God constantly this week and listening more. God answers prayers. Even the ones we don't put words to...or remember.

Happy Birthday Nat!

28 years ago today my son Nat was born. It was a rough day for both of us, but he finally arrived at 2:32 p.m. via emergency C-section.

Nat shortly after birth

For the first couple of hours (days), every time I held him or nursed him, we would both fall asleep after about 3 minutes. (General anesthesia after 24+ hours of laboring for mother and baby will do that to you.) When we were both awake, we would just stare at each other. I was studying every little bit of him and storing those miracles and memories in my heart. Nat, on the other hand, was staring at me skeptically as if to say, "Who the heck are you?!"

Our first week together was a blur, but I took pictures of the moments with my heart's eyes and tucked them away to remember forever. It was the 1980's in the pre-digital photo era. Rolls of film came with 12, 24, or 36 exposures. We have pictures, obviously, but not as many. The best pictures are in our memories anyway, don't you think?

My memory pictures include Craig holding Nat with pride, love, and sheer terror; Nat sleeping in his bassinet in the living room while family and friends gathered to meet him; and Grandmas Wood and Cooley taking turns holding the new grandson. Oh, and then there's the one of Craig and Esmerelda, our cat, fighting all over the apartment after Esmerelda hissed and scratched at newborn Nat. I guess Esme wasn't happy with the new creature in the house who was stealing all our attention. (After the fight, Esmerelda became Nat's own personal guard cat. She was very protective of him and would hiss if someone not on her approved list got too close to him or presumed to pick him up without permission.) There are also pictures of Nat sleeping, Nat nursing, and Nat screaming because he wanted his food NOW, thank you very much.  Nat liked to eat a lot back then, every 3 hours or else!

Nat--1 month old

My favorite memory picture of all came a couple of days after we came home from the hospital. It was morning and was the first time I was completely alone with my new son. I was sitting on the green plaid couch in the living room with Nat laying on my lap, wide awake for the first time. I sat there and marveled at every precious inch of my firstborn: the red "stork bite" birthmark on the nape of his neck, his head of light hair, deep blue eyes, and perfectly formed fingers, toes, ears, and nose. He was adorable and I couldn't quit looking at him, soaking him in and talking to him. I was filled with that awe that new mothers and dads feel when first having a child. This baby in my lap was a true miracle just by his existence and second by his surviving such a traumatic labor and delivery. I was completely filled by a deep, aching maternal love for him that still exists today. When I had his brother, Josh, it happened all over again.

Baby boy Nat grew up into a gentle giant who at 6'3" towers over his 5'3" tall mother. In my heart, though, part of him will always be my baby.

Craig, Elaine & Nat Cooley
June, 1984

Lives of Hope and Love

My true epiphany of the other day was this:  Thoreau said that men lead lives of quiet desperation. Many people do live in quiet desperation. However, I believe that most people lead lives of hope and love. When we live in hope and love, no matter what form our lives take, whether we're famous or unknown, are farmers, secretaries, bankers, lawyers, doctors, laborers or poets, our lives are well lived. Everyone's life is necessary and has meaning when lived in hope and love. God provides the best hope and love of all. A life lived with God is always significant.

The Lanyard by Billy Collins

I wanted to share this on Mother's Day, but left the book at home. Better late than never I guess! My version of the lanyard was a cigar box covered with glued on macaroni and spray painted blue. Mother kept it forever and I still have it. (You'll understand this when you read the poem.) I also hope I don't get into copyright trouble for sharing this online.

The Lanyard by Billy Collins

The other day as I was richocheting slowly
off the pale blue walls of this room,
bouncing from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one more suddenly into the past--
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid thin strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that's what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sickroom,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones, and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift--not the archaic truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hands,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

Epiphany and The Meaning of Life

I had an epiphany this morning while driving through the rain in the hills and canyons between Amarillo and Dalhart, Texas.  I’ve had a similar version of this epiphany several times throughout my life, but as I live life and get involved in things, I tend to turn a little senile and forget it. I think we all do this. We realize something important, have several days, months or even years of clarity and then get lost and forget our way. I could try to be all deep and analytical about the view of life I’m about to share, but I’m not a philosopher. I’m not complicated. I’m a big picture kind of gal and like things simple. So, here’s my simple epiphany from this morning.

There is a circle of life. We’re not always young, always middle-aged, or always old. Each phase of life is important, worthy, and to be enjoyed, wherever you are.  Love one another all through life.  Love family, friends, and strangers. Don’t mourn the past or over-anticipate the future.  Enjoy this moment, right now. Share it with someone you love.  Even when life is hard, difficult, and painful, soak it in, let it be.  Pray.  God will be with you through all things, forever.  God loves you. Lighten up on each other. Forgive and be forgiven.  As long as you’re alive, you have an important purpose even if you don’t realize what it is.  Be yourself and your purpose will be fulfilled.  Love is the answer to all of life.  God is love. Be just, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.

This is a bit garbled, but I'm writing at McDonald's in Raton, NM so forgive me for being garbled.  :-)

Mothers, Daughters, Sons

28 years ago today, exactly, I was exhaustedly awaiting the arrival of my first child. I was hugely pregnant, had not been able to see my feet for several months, could not get into or out of chairs or beds without assistance, and generally looked like a beached whale. I could not WAIT to have my first baby, but was scared too. What if I couldn't handle the labor and delivery? What if the baby was too big? What if I was a horrible, terrible awful mother? What if....

My husband was very sweet and patient with me even though he said years later that I cried every morning for the last month of my pregnancy. He claimed I awoke every morning with, "Will I ever have this baby?!!" I don't recall the every morning part, but I do remember saying that a couple of times. Craig gave me my first Mother's Day card on this date in 1984, although it would be a week before our son, Nathanael, was born. Receiving that card made everything real to me. I suddenly felt and realized the true seriousness of having a baby and raising a child. It terrified me. I panicked. I called my mother.

Mother laughed at me and said, "Of course you'll be a great mother, Elaine! You've been practicing for years with all the babies and kids I took care of and you've always loved and had a way with them. Why would you suddenly panic now?"  Or course, Mother was the best mother I ever met. Everyone always thinks their mother is best, but my mother could givehave given courses in raising children. She knew everything from first aid and major medical illness care to teaching your kiddo to read at the age of 3 or 4, to disciplining that same kiddo when they did something stupid and dangerous like inserting a bobby pin in an electrical socket, to rocking them in the rocking chair and reading stories when they had asthma attacks, to listening to teenagers ad nauseum while they discussed with great angst all the horrors of being rejected by their current crush, and, finally, to telling those same grown kids to get over themselves, pray to God for strength and wisdom, and have that baby!

A week later, on May 20, 1984 at 2:32 p.m., after 24+ hours of labor, I did finally have that baby. I fell completely, deeply, totally head over heels in love with that big baby boy of mine and would have killed anybody in a single shot if they had in any way hurt him or even threatened to do so. When his brother was born one year later on July 12, 1985, I fell completely in love all over again. I was totally gone over my boys and am still that way. The first time your child is placed in your arms, you gaze into each other's eyes, their little fist curls around your finger, and your hearts are forever melded together.

They talk about the mother tigress syndrome and it is true. When a woman has babies, she becomes a stronger, better, wiser, and crazed woman who will do anything to love, protect, and care for her children. There have been instances over the years when I became that tigress, defending my sons physically, mentally and emotionally. At age 50, I can honestly say right here and now that if someone was threatening either of my 6'2" sons, I'd be a roaring tigress again in a heartbeat. That's just what mothers do, right?

My mother was a blessing to me all my life. She was my protective tigress, my wise teacher, and my loving counselor. If not for her, I might not have made it through those early years of babies and new motherhood. She's been gone for 11 years now and I still think of her and her wisdom all the time. The other afternoon as Alan and I were driving down the road to Texas, I suddenly recalled this moment when she was holding each of my sons at the same time, one on each hip. She was beaming with pride, love, and joy and the little boys in her arms were grinning too.  That picture in my mind is the epitome of motherhood to me, all wrapped up in one joyful package. What a priviledge to have had both a wonderful mother and to have been given such beautiful sons.  Happy Mother's Days to all three of you.  I love you with all my heart. 

Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining 5.10.12

(I wrote this yesterday, but just now am able to post.)

The past couple of weeks have been stressful ones. Alan and I have been staying at a friend’s condominium the last couple of days due to part of the stress. We thank God for having a generous friend with a kind spirit who loaned us the condo. The stress isn’t the focus of this post, however. The focus of this post is that in the midst of troubles, God is always there with us and for us. He gives us silver linings. The condo just happens to be on the west side of Colorado Springs, right next to Garden of the Gods. As many of you know, Garden of the Gods is my favorite place in Colorado Springs. The red and white rocks that rise up there are like sentinels guarding the mountains. Buddy and I have taken many good hikes there. Alan has joined us on some of the hikes, too, which are even more special because when Alan comes with us we don’t get lost! That, of course, reveals that Buddy and I have gotten lost on a couple of occasions and felt like conquering heroes when we finally found our way and the car. Those hikes when we’ve gotten lost, however, weren’t without merit. On our “lost” hikes is when we’ve run across deer, rabbits, squirrels and even a fox once. Buddy loves those hikes because nothing gives him greater joy than chasing another creature and then barking at it to show just them who is the boss! One of his favorite things is to bark at and challenge the horses and riders from the riding stables. I’m not sure why Buddy thinks he has to challenge an animal that is ten times bigger than I am, much less 100 times bigger than he is, but he loves to do it! I call it his little big man, macho syndrome.

I took Buddy for a walk a little further on the condo grounds today, topped a rise and was astounded to realize how very close we are to the Garden. Of course, then I had to run back to the condo, get my camera and take pictures. The sun is in the west so they aren’t the best photos and do not in any way do justice to what can be seen with our God-given eyes, but I still thought I’d share them with you.

As I was standing on the rise and looking across at the Garden, at Pikes Peak, and at Cameron’s Cone to the left of the Peak, I was reminded of God. He is always with us and for us, whether we are deliberately seeking Him or not. He remains ever near and reveals His presence in the beauty He spreads before us, whether the beauty is a flower, a mountain, a red rock garden, or the joy of a little dog. He reveals Himself to us in the smiles and love of friends and family, in hearty laughter, and even in the tears we shed at low times in our lives. God revealed Himself to me today in the silver lining of the clouds floating over the mountains and the Garden. He revealed Himself to me in the silver lining of our circumstances. God is so magnificent and loving. I could not live without Him and pray I never have to do so.  I pray that you have discovered God’s magnificent love and grace, in the silver linings He has just for you. (Notice that the silver linings put a smile all over my face!)