You Can Bank on It

“There’s a bank in the west,” my husband’s mother, a weather worrier, used to announce ominously, concern furrowing her brow. Not being familiar with the term, when I first heard it I thought she was referring to Wells-Fargo or some frontier financial institution. (Little did I know that some fifty years into the future, “The Bank of the West,” would be imprinted on our checks.)

I thought of that when I found myself saying today as we drove into the grocery parking lot, “Look, there’s a bank in the west.” Sure enough, the looming black clouds in the western sky told us we were in for a rain, at least. Still, we were surprised at the checkout to see that it was a deluge out there! Of course, Howard made it happen, by washing the car earlier! By the time we had sacked our groceries, though, there was only a smattering of random drops plopping here and there like the indignant left-over tears from a child’s tantrum.

I’m sure my mother-in-law had good reason to be storm-skittish, having grown up on the plains of Kansas and living in Oklahoma for most of her married life. Just a few years prior, in 1955, the town had been devastated by a deadly tornado. My mother, however, having been raised in southwest Texas, tended to scoff at storms. She usually just turned over and went back to sleep in bad weather. I was more like her.

The rain returned this afternoon, this time with hail. I called my husband at work, but he didn’t seem concerned about it, and soon it was over, with cooler, gusty winds sweeping away the clouds. It was even nice enough for us to sit in the new backyard swing after supper. My eyes fell upon the two small containers of mossy plants that I had not yet put into the ground. I tucked them between the rocks surrounding our fountain. Before going in, we removed the awning from the swing we had worked so hard to attach yesterday; the wind was about to make it airborne.

Weather storms make us think of the storms of life, which with God’s help we take in stride. I read a quote of Ruth Graham’s that she had borrowed from an old mountain man who helped out with chores while she was raising her kids in the absences of her famous husband: “Make the least of all that goes, the most of all that comes.” In other words, don’t dwell on what you don’t have, but be thankful for what you have. Advice you can take to the bank!

"When Heaven Tries Earth if it be in Tune..."

What a wonderful day! Howard’s birthday and the weather was perfect…what is so rare as a day in June?… We rode with the windows down in his truck as we struck out to enjoy “his” day. His latest obsession is fixing up the back yard, so the first stop was to a farm store to buy fescue seed. (It’s supposed to grow in shade.) Then a swooping drive through Walmart’s outdoor displays of garden soil, decorative rock, and mulch. (We would return later for a steel rake to prep the soil for the grass seed.)

After finding flowering plants on sale and considering cushions for lawn furniture, we decided to check on the lawn swing we’d seen the other day. It was on sale for only a little more than half it’s original price! “You’ll have to pay extra to buy the one on the floor, since it’s already assembled,” the clerk said. My husband’s male ego made him say he would do it himself.

Well, it would have been well worth the fifteen dollars, since it took us nearly three hours of “easy assembly” to put it together. We’re both wiped out, now, but it is beautiful, in a rustically-elegant sort of way. We’ve been resting before going to our kids’ for a birthday supper. Then we’re all going to church together, a perfect ending for his special day.

It may be Howard’s birthday, but I am so excited I feel like it’s mine! I learned today that a proof copy of my second book, “Seasons of the Heart,” is on the way and should be here in a few days! It looked so good to read “Publication date: June 15, 2011” , when I looked up the status on the internet. I plan to speed read it and make any corrections, and hopefully have published copies by the end of the month!

Sometimes God answers prayers in multiples. Howard had a prayer answered Monday; I had prayed that the book would be ready this month; and my laryngitis is gone! Like I said, it was a beautiful day, and June is only half over…the best is yet to be: my birthday, our anniversary, and Father’s Day. Maybe a day in June isn’t such a rare thing, after all!

My Elusive Friend

Sleep. It’s a neat trick if you can do it, I thought, as I read the choices on my computer to sleep, hibernate or shut down. I clicked on “sleep” and decided to once more go to bed. Exhausted, I had retired over an hour ago, but slumber had eluded me. None of the ways I arranged a pillow under my knee relieved my discomfort. Apparently I had damaged it through overuse climbing stairs over a month ago on a trip to see family.

Besides that, my head was hurting, no doubt from sinus pressure, worse when I lay down. And that’s when my knee hurts worse. I can live with it during the day, but five minutes after I lie down and it seems sleep is just around the corner, it begins to throb. My tossing and turning were sending excruciating stabs through it, so I struggled to lie still. Sometimes I fear I have RLS--restless leg syndrome.

Not only that, I was cold. My husband had the temperature set just the way he liked it, and he always noticed when I turned it up. That’s when I gave up, threw off the cover, and felt my way back into the living room and opened my laptop. I knew it would make it harder to drift off after looking at the lighted screen, but I couldn’t sleep anyway. It had been like this for days on end, with only a few hours of sleep each night, and I knew it was taking its toll.

After checking all my sites, I went to the kitchen for a snack. Not that I was hungry after a late supper, but a bowl of cereal could sometimes be counted on for a few winks. Finally I fell asleep with the additional help of Tylenol PM and allergy medicine.

Psalms 127:2, tells us, “It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.” I know that the best sleep I get comes from Him. My husband practices putting on the whole armor of God to ward off bad dreams and disturbed sleep, and I often do that, too. The only reason I sometimes sit up late is so I hopefully won’t wake up prematurely. About the time I’m sleeping well, dawn begins to lighten my window, I hear the birds singing, and it’s time to get up. For me, “eating the bread of sorrows”, or worrying, is only about not sleeping. Lord, I’m ready for You to give Your beloved some sleep!

I See!

I told my husband that we could find the lens that had popped out of his prescription glasses if we cleaned the house thoroughly. It had been missing several days, and we had already scoured every conceivable place he could have lost it, to no avail. I was going on his clue that he had walked into the bedroom and tossed the glasses onto a table. Then when he picked them up later, the lens was gone, so he figured that’s where he had lost it.

Well, he cooperated and vacuumed today while I dusted under beds and behind things. We even bought new Swiffer refills for a clean sweep. Once, I could have sworn I heard a glass-like tinkle when something hit the floor while I was dusting, but I could see nothing. This is like looking for a needle in a haystack, I thought as I went through the contents of a waste basket. We had prayed repeatedly, because we hated to spend hundreds of dollars for a new pair of glasses, and he would have to have them. Reading glasses just don’t do it for him.

I had awakened with laryngitis this morning and couldn’t speak above a whisper all day. Twice I made phone calls to loved ones before remembered I couldn’t talk to them. All they got was a croaked explanation and apology for my having called. Tonight, I decided not to go with Howard to a Bible study at a friend’s house, in case what I had might be contagious. Some people in our church have been having similar problems, so I might have picked it up there.

Even though I wasn’t feeling great, I wanted to finish up some laundry I had started today, so I was folding some clothes while I watched television. Suddenly something caught the light, and I heard a ping on the floor. The lens! They must be praying at the meeting! Thank you, Lord! This meant so much! I had just hung up a pair of Howard’s pants, so the lens could have come from there. Maybe he had put them in his pocket on the way to the bedroom and it had fallen out in the pocket. (My efforts at getting him to retrace his steps had ended in frustration, because he wouldn’t discuss anything other than what he had already told me.)

Several of my face book friends had had an ongoing discussion lately about losing things and the comical places they had found them, often after retracing their steps. I mentioned how that always worked for me, but that we had not been successful in finding Howard’s glasses lens. They probably said a prayer, too, as did all our kids that we mentioned it to.

I couldn’t wait for Howard to come home from the meeting; I had the lens placed strategically on the coffee table to surprise him. He got home a little early, and the first thing he said was, “We prayed for you, and that I would find my lens.” That was my dramatic moment! I held it out and his eyes opened wide in delight as he raised his hands and said, “Thank you, Jesus!” He ran and called our friend and told him of the timely answer to their prayer. Now we are thanking God in faith for the answer to prayer for my voice! I can't afford to lose that, either!

Oh, My Aching Back!

“Look, there’s a garage sale,” I announced to my husband as we were coming home from eating at Sonic yesterday. Actually, it was in a neighborhood where I usually wouldn’t be likely to stop, but today the sun was shining beautifully and the small cottage looked oddly appealing. There were big, beautiful collector’s dolls in cases, strangely attractive furniture pieces, and the show-stopper of them all, a huge lion fountain!

This caught our eye, and when we glanced around, we saw a lily-pad covered garden pond with all kinds of statuary around it, including a dolphin and, balanced on rocks above the pool, a shallow 3-foot concrete bowl holding a mermaid. Not that I wanted any of that, but Howard did ask about the ubiquitous figure of a straw-hat- wearing little boy holding a fishing pole. They had two of those. The proprietor said everything belonged to his late sister, who obviously had extravagant tastes in yard décor, and he was getting rid of everything.

“How much for the rocks?” Howard asked of the flat, ornamental stones that were piled along the edge of the driveway. He’d been wanting to make a flagstone patio area out near his garden project. When he was quoted a “rock-bottom” price, he said, “I’ll be back tonight with my truck.”

Thankfully, grandson Adam was available to help him, because he came home with quite a load of them. And they were heavy! I carried a few of the smaller ones, but Adam made several wheelbarrow loads of the rest, piling them in our back yard. Today the fun began. “Don’t lift those! You’ll hurt yourself!” I cautioned my husband, but he wouldn’t be deterred. With both of us working, slowly the shape of a small patio began to take shape. A little excavation was necessary, and it’s not finished yet, but the effect is charming!

Now he is building a gate (to nowhere) as a backdrop for our nook, to be covered in vines to camouflage the garage walls behind it. Where will this all end? I can hardly remember how it got started! We stopped today at Tractor Supply for gate posts, and we saw a wonderful yard swing with awning that would be perfect out back! Well, both our birthdays, anniversary, and Father’s Day are coming up, so maybe we can splurge a little (more)! After all, we need a place to rest and enjoy the view!

Age Has Its Privileges

“Howard, you realize what we’re doing, don’t you?” I asked my husband as we sat in the backyard staring at his “water garden.” “We’re acting like old people,” I laughed. That’s what it reminded me of as we kept adding this or that trinket or embellishment to his creation.

It all started when we had accidentally gotten a statue that had a hose opening for a fountain. I was upset when I hadn’t got the one which reminded me of my granddaughter, Anne-Marie, until I realized this one looked like her little sister, Maddie. Anyway, my husband had activated the fountain feature, and the water really added interest and visual impact, like something alive and moving.

Howard had placed a birdbath bowl on the ground beneath the trickle of water spilling over the edge of a large seashell the little girl held in her lap. Beside it stood the figure of the little boy pouring from the jug; and although there was no water in it, it was still very effective. The whole arrangement included a slatted bench, a birdfeeder hanging on a bracket fastened to the support of a yard swing and a pair of lop-eared resin/stone bunnies which seemed to be sipping from the bowl.

We needed more foliage for a natural look, though, since the trees were farther back. “Just to see how it will look, I can bring an artificial plant from the front porch,” I offered. The big, fringed leaves of the plant were very realistic nestled around the fountain, wet and glistening from being hosed off. Howard liked it, and I remembered another life-like plant I had, and shortly added it to give the rabbits cover.

From there it was searching for rocks to balance the plants, then bringing a smaller grotto-like fountain to sit in the bird bath and continue the waterfall as it spilled into it. I seemed to be doing most of the work here, getting into the project as the director made suggestions. “We need the water to come down over the boy,” he noted. So I positioned a wide plant leaf to catch the water and act as a trough. Nature made it look so easy, but my artificial leaf still worked, just like in the animated Disney forest scenes when the water drops musically down the foliage.

One thing led to another, what with another rabbit, an additional decorative birdbath and a few bricks brought from the front, until I made the comment about old people. Well, we are in our early 70’s, the “young-old” (80’s being “old” and “old-old” beyond that), but I will draw the line when he starts putting up windmills and birds with propeller-wings in trees!

True Colors

I know hanging curtains with a spouse is dangerous to a marriage, but that is nothing compared to hanging a flag! We had admired the stars and stripes billowing patriotically in the wind on a house across the street, so when I saw a flag set at Lowes yesterday, I suggested we get it. The red, white and blue would be pretty against our white, craftsman-style bungalow.

We got up bright and early this morning and filled our planter in front with red and white flowers, anticipating kids visiting later this month. “Let’s put the flag up, too!” I said brightly. Howard was agreeable, and went to fetch his ladder. I got out the flag and read the simple instructions to mount it. Howard made the pole sections fit when I couldn’t. I carried the flag out with the eager anticipation of a soldier planting it in victory, but I was told to put it back inside until he was ready.

I might have known how the morning would go when he told me the end of a ladder leg had mysteriously broken off. I would have to balance and hold it steady. Then the screws would not penetrate the stubborn board on the house gable, and I was dispatched for thinner screws. I remembered seeing some lying the picnic table and brought them. Those screws kept flying off, and I kept picking them up out of the flower box and handing them to Howard.

“Get me the other drill from the garage!” the “drill” sergeant ordered. Not much better, so I was sent for a pack of new magnetic drill tips he had bought yesterday. Going back on the porch to fetch something, Howard suddenly yelled in pain as blood shot from his finger! An invisible sharp nail had appeared from nowhere as he took hold of a wicker chair as he went in. As the blood stained the white tissue I had in my hand, it dawned on me what the red stripes in the flag were. Yes, courage and valor, which often incurred the shedding of blood.

Finally, my husband said our project was finished. And it looked great! While he had gone to put something away, though, the flag seemed to be dipping curiously lower and lower, as if bowing to someone of importance.

The cheap bracket had bent. “Don’t worry, I can fix that,” my improvising spouse said. All I got was silence to my question of “how”. In fact, the “why” question had been getting me in hot water all morning, as he seemed take it as an affront to his competence. Another trip to the garage and a climb up the ladder, and he had reinforced it. It held this time, and we watched its rewarding billows in appreciation of what it stands for.

The other day at McDonald’s, Howard was having trouble getting a light-haired cashier to understand him. He asked for an empty cup for water, and she uncomprehendingly handed him butter. From my seat I could see him as he pantomimed drinking from a glass, and another employee finally gave him a cup.

The mystery was cleared up last night when the pastor said he was treated with unaccustomed courtesy at McDonald’s yesterday from a staff of smiling, blonde young people lined up behind the counter. He was so intrigued, he inquired of the manager where she got this work force. “They’re from Russia,” she explained, “sent here for training to work in a McDonald’s over there.” What better place to learn than in the land of the free and the home of the brave! And may they see only the good in us while here. After all, diplomacy begins at home, even when hanging the colors!