Terrapin Station

Friday Five: The Week in Review

Sally set this Friday Five at RevGals, but I wasn't able to do it then. Taking a quick minute to look within and see:

This week, what has

Encouraged you? The messages of support, particularly when we were stuck in the Tallahassee airport for 6+ hours on Thursday. Those are times when you need to feel less alone and the Facebookies came through for me!!!

Inspired you? The staff of the Tallahassee airport who went above and beyond to make us feel as comfortable as possible during the long wait. They brought out airport cookies, bottled water and ice...but also several boxes of Girl Scout cookies that I am certain were personally owned by one of them. They carried cookies around to the passengers in serving trays made of coffee filters. :) The airport kept the snack bar open for an extra 2 hours so we could get dinner, and the staff there could not have been more cheerful and helpful, given the unanticipated Friday night overtime.

Challenged you? Helping my mom get (as smoothly as possible) to the funeral of her sister, where there was significant potential for very nasty conflict, and staying centered and NOT in a place of fear. It all turned out well. God is gracious and oh, people are generally so gracious too.

Made you smile? Spending time with a cousin that I have never known well and finding a real kindred spirit. She is the daughter of my mother's favorite cousin. Wonderful symmetry.

Brought a lump in your throat or a tear to your eye in a good way? Seeing my only maternal first cousins (Aunt Nancy's children) again...it has been many years, at least 20. Hearing Mother Terri say those words at the graveside: "We are all dust, and to dust we shall return; but even as we go down to the grave we make our song: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia."

A Kind-Hearted Person Lives Here

There's a symbol in hobo language that means:  "A kind-hearted woman lives here." 

According to Kind Hearted Woman Gifts, "A century ago hobos traveled the land using a system of pictures to communicate with each other. These pictures would be carved on trees, fence posts or buildings or chalked on pavement near homes. The symbol of a smiling cat meant a 'kind hearted woman lives here.' Someone who would likely extend kindness and hospitality."

My mother has said that my grandmother probably had one of those signs up near her house, because often and often a tramp would come to the back door (always the back) and ask to work for food.  She always gave them work (giving out work was a specialty of hers), and then she always gave them a plate piled high with food, that they sat on the back steps to eat. 

My husband's office is in our home, so if people come to the door during the day, he's the one to answer it.  He has, over the years, hired many people for similar sorts of labor, folks who were down on their luck. 

Today I was reading and heard a knock at the door.  It was a man who said he was homeless and wanted to work - but for food, not for money.  I told him I'd ask Ken if he needed any help. 

Ken declined, so I went back out and told the man I'd be glad to make him some sandwiches but we didn't need any work done.  He declined, even when I tried to insist. 

I'm sorry about that.  But I'm glad that if there's a word on the street, it says that a kind-hearted person lives here. 

 

My Mother

For those of you who did not have a good relationship with your mother, or whose mother has died or ...well... for those of you who do not have happy associations with the topic of Mother's Day...

then please take this not as a Mother's Day post, but as my tribute to a really amazing woman who is my mother, on a day that is near the one about mothers. 

My mother is a great gift to me.  She knows me in ways I don't know myself.  She is a place of tremendous comfort and security and peace. 

I read yesterday that mothers were the scrapbook keepers of our lives.  I also read, long ago, a statement that "after my mother died, no one else ever listened to me with such perfect attention."  That's always resounded for me.  I could read the phone book and my mom would think it was amazing.  She is convinced that one day I will write books, although I cannot imagine this as I have nothing to say in book form at present.   But she is usually right, so we'll wait to see on that one.

When I was little, my mom was able to stay home with us, and then she started back to practicing speech pathology at the preschool where we went.  We couldn't have afforded the tuition there without her salary, I'm sure.  I remember one day I fell down and bumped my head.  The substitute teacher was taking me back to the nurse's office and instead I headed for the door where I knew my mom's classroom was.  The teacher was very confused!  I opened the door and sure enough, there was my mom, with a student.  She comforted me and took me home.  That's what it feels like to go to my mom:  she is always present. 

Things weren't easy for her.  She had 6 kids, 2 of them stepkids (really great stepkids!) and at one point our ages ranged from preschool to law school.  She was Girl Scout cookie chairman for many years.  She ran the junior choir and a kids' group at our church for several years that gave us wonderful opportunities to put on musicals, go camping, etc. 

When I was little, she was the funnest and coolest mom of all the moms.  She had this awesome face she used to make upon request and we would all shriek and scream with delight.  But, she could only make it once a day!  Way to keep your audience wanting more! 

Last time I visited, I went to wake her up for church, and I sat on the edge of the bed and said, "Mommy, mommy, it's time to wake up!"  She BOLTED upright (at eighty she doesn't usually move that fast!) - I think I must have caught her completely off guard, because I haven't called her anything but Mom or Mother for years. 

She always worked; when I was in elementary school & junior high, it was in in a back bedroom in our house; when I went to college, she got an office in a steel & glass building on Westheimer.  I was amazed the first time I visited her there and realized she was a professional.  Oh, yes, she was, and she had been all along.  I just didn't know it. 

She has a lot of physical problems, but she has more enthusiasm for life than any other dozen folks you meet in a day.  She was looking for a piece of jewelry to show to me last weekend and was frustrated that she couldn't find it.  Right before I left, she spied it hanging on a jewelry display and LURCHED toward it.  This caused her to almost fall over, but I caught her!  But, she was so excited to find it, that she forgot to remember that she can't be leaping around like she used to. 

She blogs, at West Texas Weaver Woman.  She is on Facebook.  The other day I checked in on Facebook as being at Spa Pedicures, and she commented, "You go, girl!" 

This is the hard part to write.  Because my mother and I are so deeply connected, and because she worries so much when I am in pain, the last year has been very hard.  I have been putting all my emotional energy into caring and being present for my husband during his illness, and I was not only physically unable to visit every month, as usual, but emotionally I did not have the capacity to be open to her.  I am not sure I can explain that.  But I am grateful that it is over, and I want to apologize to her for the pain I know it caused. 

I love you, Mom.  Thank you for always supporting and loving me, even when I have not responded in the ways I wanted to. 

Mary Bethie

A death in Holy Week

My Aunt Betty died yesterday. Her death had been imminent in the weeks prior. She was 91 and most ready to go; at her 90th birthday she told us she was wearing the outfit she planned to be cremated in, and that she'd had a photo made for her obituary in that outfit. (She was beautiful!)  This is her at her birthday party, saying that the thing she had learned in life was that you just have to laugh at yourself and other people, or otherwise you'll cry.  Words to the wise. 

She remained vigorous all her life, riding horses on dude ranches into her 80's. She traveled widely, hiked everywhere, and stayed in shape with Weight Watchers.

She was the first woman I ever saw to make a home on her own. After my uncle died, Aunt Betty sold her house in Houston, where she had been a teacher & principal for many many years, and moved to Colorado to be near her son and daughter-in-law. She and Rosetta opened a preschool in her basement and taught and loved and played with little children there for years. They also camped, fished, and enjoyed the beauty of Fort Collins.

My family went to visit one summer, and I was about 13. I remember looking at her beautiful, airy, clean little home with a view of the mountains, and thinking, "no one else told her where to put these things! she did this all herself!" It was revolutionary for me.

Later, she moved to Boise, Idaho, and then back to Lake Jackson, Texas. She lived near her sister, my Aunt Emily, in Lake Jackson for several years, enjoying contact with her and Uncle Oliver and their families. She had the best attitude of anyone I have ever known...despite a large share of the sorrow of life.

She was also one of the most talented crafters I have ever known. Needlepoint, cross-stitch, ceramics; there was nothing she couldn't do. At every family gathering she made handmade items for everyone, usually personalized. The year after Aunt Etta Jane died (EJ was famous for wearing a Christmas bow on the top of her head while we opened presents), Aunt Betty made tiny Christmas bow earrings for all the women.

Primarily, she was the most engaged person I have ever met. No one who encountered her didn't feel that Aunt Betty was genuinely interested in them and glad to see them. As my sister Barbara said, "Aunt Betty made everyone feel special."

Friday Five: Thanksgiving

Jan, over at RevGals offers this Friday Five:

I've been home from Russia for less than a week, and in less than a week it is Thanksgiving Day in the USA (Nov. 24). So for this Friday Five, answer these questions (and if they don't apply to you, list five things you are grateful for):

1. Where will you be on Thanksgiving Day? With whom? I will be at home with my sweet husband.  Because he is still taking all nourishment through a tube, attending an event where it's all about eating would be unkind to him, to say the least.  Also he's not feeling great a lot of the time, so going somewhere seems like a bad plan.  We are just going to chill.  I hope to get at least a little deep cleaning done (don't want to go overboard) and maybe start decorating for Christmas.  I have vacation on Thursday and Friday.

2. Are there any family traditions or memories associated with Thanksgiving?  Oh my, yes.  We always (in my memory) had all the Butler family over to our house.  I remember many Thanksgiving mornings helping chop celery & onions for dressing, or setting many many card tables with various sets of china and silverware, or raking leaves in the yard to get ready.  There would be 30 or 40 people there. That same group would gather for Christmas at my Gramma Beth's house and later Aunt Emily & Uncle Oliver's home on Lake Jackson.  What a wonderful gift:  a solid feeling of belonging to a solid family full of love.  (Really.  That group really did get along.  No joking.) 

3. What will be on your Thanksgiving menu?  Well, we are eating a lot of dressing (my personal favorite part of Thanksgiving) with giblet gravy (made by Ken).  We each eat it as we are able.  :) 

4. Are you trying anything new this Thanksgiving? Staying home and not entertaining. 

5. What is the weather forecast for this day (next Thursday)? Sunny.  High 62, low 47.  Can't beat that!  Looks like I may be doing some lawn cutting, too.

Bonus: Prayer, poem, song, or whatever you choose to exemplify your image of Thanksgiving (giving thanks).

At Butler gatherings we say grace before meals by standing in a circle, holding hands, and singing this:

 

                                                                

(While I like this inclusive version of the words, using only the word "God" to represent God, know well that the Doxology as the Butlers sing it refers to God as Him.  And we have a Father, Son and Holy GHOST.  No newfangled wording for us, thanks.)  (That's TRADITION for you.)

A gift

My cousin's youngest son was married last night (to a girl named Mary Beth!) and many of the Butler family turned out for the wedding held in Dallas.  

The night before, my cousin Paul hosted the rehearsal dinner at his home.  It's a wonderful little Spanish bungalow in an old Dallas neighborhood.  Paul is my favorite cousin...he is just a few years older than me and he and Nancy and I used to play together a lot when we were little.   He's always had the ability to make me laugh hysterically.  

He's a designer and his home is amazing.   One bedroom has at least 10 paintings of the Last Supper and several Sacred Heart and Guadalupe depictions.  It's so...Paul.  :)  He also has a great portrait of our grandfather, in his bathroom.  The entire effect is amazing and sort of like an art car home.  

The wedding reception was in the Old Red Courthouse in Dallas, overlooking Dealy Plaza.  Everything was lovely and a great time was had by all.  

The best part, for me, was the family who were there.  My Dad's sisters, aunts Betty and Emily, at 90 and 84, and my Uncle Oliver, at 93.  There were five children in my Dad's family, four of whom had children.  It turns out to be very complicated to explain to spouses.  :)  I'm not sure Ken will ever get it, but I never tire of telling him about the connections. 

Because, my motto is:  "It's all about the relationships you build."  The essence of life is connecting.  And my relationships to these people are more precious than I can say.  

I wish I had pictures, to share them with you.  But the only photo I took turned out terribly.  

I have pictures in my mind, though.  Uncle Oliver and his five great-grandchildren running around.  My cousin George and his wife and two girls (who are young women now!)  My sister Barbara and her husband.  I could go on and give you all the names...but the point is the love and joy that I feel having been surrounded for two evenings by people who have known and loved me all my life.  

A gift.  

 

Friday Five: Memories of my Grandfather

Sally says at RevGals:  This year Tim and I have planted and nurtured a vegetable garden, and I have just spent the morning preparing vegetables and soups for the freezer, our veggie garden is producing like crazy and it is hard to keep up with, that said it'll be worth it for a little taste of summer in the middle of winter :-). That got me thinking of the things I treasure, memories are often more valuable than possessions. How about you, can you share:

Inspired by Sally's amazing garden, this memories Friday Five has turned out to be all about my grandfather and gardening he loved.  

1. A treasured memory from childhood? My grandfather (Bigdaddy) was a chemist by training (and a banker by trade, but he was retired by the time I knew him). He was a man of the land and the sea, and he loved his gardens; was always doing things to the soil to make it produce better. He had three gardens...two BIG ones...one at the beach and one at the house in Tallahassee, plus a dedicated tomato garden at the beach. We ate like royalty for sure. And carried home jars and jars of home-canned food, too.  (Oh, and his camellias would be a whole other blog post...)
2. A teenage memory? I would always ask my grandparents how I could help (they were always doing such hard, hard work. My grandmother (Meme) would say, "no, you're too little" (!)...she said this to everyone, no matter their age or size!!  My grandfather would always find something for me to do. Sometimes it was bringing wheelbarrow-loads of seaweed up from the beach (and I mean up, the house and garden are on a 12-foot dune) and rinsing salt water off of them for them to later nourish the garden. One time it was climbing a 20-foot ladder and holding an AC unit in place (outside) while he was inside securing it to the window.  I think I was more like 10 when this happened.  I thought, "Oh, my God...this is too heavy for me!"  But I didn't dare say anything, or drop it.  Maybe he knew that I could do more than I thought I could.  Hmm!
3. A young adult memory?  My college roommate, Lori, and I went to the beach one summer during grad school.  My grandparents were not well enough to stay at the beach by that time (steep stairs) so they left us there alone.  They pointed out the garden and the freezer full of food.  I'll never forget getting out a frozen whole chicken and wondering what to do with it?  We found an old Rumford Baking Powder cookbook.  For chicken, the recipe in that book included something like, "once killed, scald well and remove all feathers."  Uhhhhh....I think we mostly ate veggies.  There were lots of them available!
4. A memory from this summer?  I went back to that beach this summer and stayed in my cousin Grace's house, next door to the home my grandparents and parents used to own.  The back lot is wild now and the garden plot and compost bed are completely grown up.  But I remember. 
5. A memory you hope to have?   One day I hope to live in a place that is not completely shaded, so that I can have a garden of my own.  At my last house we had a 6x6 raised bed for tomatoes, and I'll never forget teaching Brandon to eat a yard tomato, fresh from the vine.  When I invited him, he said, "oh, no, I don't like tomatoes."  The first bite converted him, and I used to look out back and see him and a group of friends all standing around eating warm tomatoes like they were candy.  :) 

““Home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes
What would life be like without homegrown tomatoes
Only two things that money can’t buy
That’s true love and home grown tomatoes.” – Guy Clark

Bonus- a song that sums up one of those memories It has to be opera, perhaps Bizet's Carmen.  My grandfather loved music and would listen to tapes of classical music.  He told me when I was with him in the hospital that if he could have had any career at all besides the one he had, he would have been an orchestra conductor.  I can see that. 

Somebody Hurt My Friend!!!

I don't have a story to tell here, because it's not my story. 

But it IS my story, because it is yet another example of a sister being done very wrong, for a reason I consider reprehensible.  I am angry and I am grieved, for her and those who love her.  I pray for those who hurt her. 

And every day I wonder about the institutional church more and more. 

(hat tip to St. Casserole for the title and mad cat illustration idea)

My Daddy

Today I am grateful for my dad. 

This is his birthday; he is 84 today. 

Here are some of the things he taught me:

to fish

to run a motorboat

to sail a Sunfish

to hit a golf ball (but I didn't learn very well!)

to eat greens with vinegar on (yum)

to say "God-a-Friday!" and "What a bunch of potlickers." 

to never apologize for getting good grades

to do my job with pride, no matter what is assigned to me

to value my family and my heritage

to love and honor my God

to be loyal

Thank you Dad!  I love you! 

Checking In

Spent the weekend in WesTexas (you gotta say it like that).

Here's my family: 

in front of the Olive Garden.

Here are the Birthday People:

Spencer, 9/29; Dad, 9/23; Nancy, 9/19 (Talk Like a Pirate Day!)

We had a great time.  Mom and I got a lot of cleaning & straightening up done.  We visited Nancy and Scooter's church Sunday - First Baptist of Mertzon.  I wish I'd taken a photo of the hat rack in the narthex - full of cowboy hats.  :)