happy birthday to a shooting star

We were sitting at the kitchen table, Mel and I, when a quick step sounded behind us, then passed us and was gone to the other side of the house. In that moment we'd both snapped our heads to the side to watch the figure whose step it was as it clipped past and followed it with our eyes until it was gone. 

Melody observed then, with her head on her hand, "Anne's just one of those people you whose personality you can't help watching." 

That was several years ago, yet it's a thing I've often called to mind, how true Milly's words were. A.G has one of those radiant personalities that we watch as closely as we would a comet or shooting star. {if you've seen her walk, then you know her pace nearly matches either of them.} She's one of those Bright People whose beauty shines from deep down and makes the rest of her fairly sparkle with loveliness. It's a loveliness too that makes other, shallow types whose Pretty is only skin deep, look shabby.  A.G reminds me {often with a pang of remorse and shame} that no matter how you patch up the outside, no amount of prinking will stand the test of beauty that comes from the soul. 

I'm thankful for this shooting star that I've been blessed to have as a sister and best friend for 23 years. She knits us all together and brings laughter and depth of thought; she challenges our ideas, habits and bodies {this you know right well if you've ever endured one of her grueling workouts}.  Though A.G loves to make everyone laugh,  no one laughs more effectively and heartily than Daddy does when A.G goads him.  He gets so tickled and merry when she turns over his laugh box that the house fairly rings out with hoots and shouts of laughter - not only his, but ours.  We laugh at Daddy laughing at Anne, because, really, there is nothing more laugh-provoking than Daddy when he's tickled. 

Happy Birthday, A.G - you bright, wonderful thing, you. 

This week I've barely thought in words at all .  It's been in shapes, colors, patterns and textures. Analyzation does that for me.  Is it like that for everyone? If I analyze throughout the day, I feel exhausted and it's hard to make thoughts fit into words…Words seem confining and claustrophobic at the end of a day of analyzation.  I think it's because our minds actually do wander more when thinking in shapes and lines and colors and uses a part of the brain that doesn't get to go roaming when thinking in words.
Well, anyhow, one of my goals is to blog more, simply because it exercises the will and thought of writing. Mama also sat me down and told me I should. So here's to two days of organization and cleaning.  Now I am at peace with my room and my drawers. Now I feel like I can actually work.

Daddy has been talking about living an Abundant life in Christ.  He says one way to do it is to be thankful…Thankfulness opens our eyes to the many blessings God gives us every day. I want to be more thankful…I've found that the prayers I pray consisting only of thanking God leave me refreshed and thinking about God's goodness. Need to do that more.

Here's what I started and didn't finish because that day was full of family and fast walking and food and celebrating and poetry as we celebrated Milly's birthday party…

From Saturday::
On this morning's walk I met Jeb and Wilma. {Jeb, being a very small dog with an intensely squished face and Wilma being a very large cat with a white bib and crimped tail. } I don't know why, but something about those names being said together has made me smile all day.  There was a human too, that I met, whose name I do not know. He was such a memorable human, however, that he joined the vast cast of Dicken's Characters in my mind and served in this morning's role as the keeper of a trinket shop who yelled at his pets in the most endearing way.
I say endearing, for it was the kind of yell that insures the human that the other human is completely on your side and completely put out with his pets.  On the other hand, it equally insures the pets that the familiar yell is one their master uses to display how adorably mischievous and rebellious they are, and that they're not expected to heed the commands at all.
Hence, it is a happy situation for both humans and pets: the human feels protected and acknowledged, while the pets feel doted on and proud of their success in misbehaving again.

Happy Wednesday!

{and writing "Wednesday" makes me smile because it reminds me of last wednesday night when we were at church.  Bro Petroff, with his huge shoulders and grizzly beard came over to me. Quiet Bro Petroff with huge arms and hands of iron an expression to match it, walked over to me and said,
"Yo! G!  You know what day it is?!"
"uh, the 15th?"
Bro Petroff used one of his iron hands to swat my shoulder as he said emphatically,
"It's HUMPDAAAAY!!!!"  And he walked off laughing the Bro Petroff Laugh that a person would know any day, any time if a person's ever heard it before.

happy birthday to a heroine

"Oh honey, there's not a day goes by but that I miss him," she said in answer to my question.
Grandmama has a comforting way of turning from one thing to another in her kitchen.  Every drawer and shelf and pan knows the long felt touch of her strong, small hands. I stood leaning on the doorway as she moved about the little space. She was making pie crusts and roasts and would turn from counter to stove poking and checking the meat, then she'd turn again to stir and roll the dough.
"We were best buddies.  We did everything together.  Sometimes it's funny to me because we were so different, but I knew God had his hand in that match.  You know, when you think about him coming all the way from Spain at only 8 years old, and how we even met - why - it's a miracle we even DID meet!  He was a night owl, you know, so we'd be in bed and it'd be late late at night and he'd have the lamp on reading. He slept on that side near the window because it had a lamp.  Usually he'd want to talk and talk before I ever went to sleep. That was our time, you know, because the kids would be in bed and that's really the only quiet time we had!" She chuckled.  Grandmama has the merriest chuckle and she does it so often that she seems to sprinkle her own life and others with that merry-ness.
"He loved to read the Bible and he'd read it into the night - sometimes until three o'clock in the morning!  And he got excited - you know - so he'd wake me up and say 'Patty, you have got to hear this!'
Sometimes it feels like years ago when he died, but most of the time it feels like yesterday.  But I don't let myself dwell on it except for one day in the year and that day I'll let myself think about it and look at photos and read our letters. I like watching the video of his funeral.  He always said "I don't want there to be moping around and crying at my funeral. I want it to be a celebration.  Feed everybody barbecue and sing songs and have some fellowship. That's what I want."

Grandmama is eighty-four today.  She's lived seventeen years without Granddaddy, and from the moment she lost him, she continued to spend her time loving God and serving others. So much of Grandmama was Granddaddy, but she's been a wonderful example of joy through sorrow and beauty through pain.

We were lying on her bed one night not too long ago. {Granddaddy eventually converted her to a night owl and now she sleeps on his side by the lamp.} She was reading - she is always reading something - and said,
"I never thought I'd live to be seventy! So I kinda just laugh every birthday when I get a year older. 'Ah, well!' I say, 'If I'm still breathin' there must be a reason!'.  I'm happy to be living. I just pray that as long as I am alive God will grant me a zest for life.  Some people lose that, you know, as they get older.
He's still blessing me. I have everything I need."

That's what I want to be like... She's the happiest, contended-est person I know, and if you know her, you know that.

~~~ Happy Birthday, Grandmama ~~~

"You know, I remember seeing old people when I was young and thinking, 'My, that person must feel very old. But you never do! You just keep seeing the reflection in the mirror growing more wrinkled and white haired and you think 'Well, my body isn't wanting to do such and such anymore', but you never feel old. I almost gasped one day when I looked in the mirror. I thought 'Who's that old person?' And then of course I saw it was me!"  She laughed that funny, happy laugh and it made me think what a funny Bender of Things Time is.  Grandmama feels 17, and still could be, 

that Bright Soul, not in maturity, but in spirit. 

She's really, quite delightfully,

 Spunky.

rainy sunday noon

 Yesterday was Mr. Hendroshibell's 85th birthday and we had him and his daughter {Miss Permillia} over for supper.  He is a wonder with woodworking and gardening and hunts with a crossbow.  Not two weeks ago he killed a buck.  Mr. Henderson's land is a magical sort of place - more like a paradise than a yard.  He has trails and creeks and all sorts of fruits and vines and trees growing on his land.  If you've ever been there, you know what kind of enchantment comes over you when you're there.  And if you've never been, I can only hope that one day you will.
   Last night Mr. Bibb was sitting at one end of the table and Abraham was to his left.  We talked about nematodes, airports, gardens and farmers and what people did that day and how far Chris had gotten on his bookshelf he's making.  At one point Mr. Henderson said,
 'You know, Abraham, I'm as curious as I can be about something.'
 'Yessir?  Well go ahead.'
 'I noticed,' said Mr. Henderson, 'that when you take a bite of food you kinda have to do this,' and he made a smoothing motion with his index and thumb, starting at the middle of the mustache area and moving to the tips of his mouth.
'Yessir,'
'Well, what I wonder is, what do you do when you kiss a girl?'
At that the table kinda shook and there were hoots and back-slappings and table - thumpings.  Abe said simply
'You know, I haven't run into that problem yet, Mr. Henderson, but whoever she is, I reckon she better not be ticklish.'

 
     And now Abe's gone.  But we had him since Christmas, so I really can't complain.  Still, it's sad.
That means only a 10-pot in the morning instead of a 12-pot and probably, there will be coffee leftover anyways - means no more bushy beards poking through my door early in the morning and wide eyes and him saying 'Let's hear the pitter patter of  Brille's feet...', and no being able to walk into the boy's room at any time of the day and see the little reading nook's light on and a bent head and stack of books and a pair of boots...no 5 mile walks and talking about the strange and perplexing, the idealistic vs. reality, good habits, bad habits, and any other thing that might come up.  means one towel, and washcloth in the bathroom instead of two, and no shaving kit that he'd leave on the counter every day, and which, every day i'd put back under the counter .  No punching bag, or teasing or belly laughing so hard it hurts.
No more, that is, until he comes back.  Entonces, hasta luego, adios brum!!! We waved and at the turn in the road he slowed down so much, we knew he was taking a good look.  And it's good he did, 'cause we were waving something fierce. 

isn't he handsome?

p.s. moriah has read 43 chapters 

of pride and prejudice 

in the past 

3 days.

go. dawn, you reading machine.