Sad walks with happy talks.

Sad Walks/ Happy Talks

I have walked the streets of Country Village for forty years.  I know every elm, sycamore, and linden tree.  I know when pumpkin décor becomes the norm and to which house each autumn display belongs. Each time I walked in a gentle snowfall, I marveled  at the Christmas trees in windows with sparkling white lights.  I knew which neighbors would adorn their yards with manger scenes declaring the real purpose of the season.  I looked forward to the wild light displays of some enthusiastic home owners. 

I have walked my dogs Penelope, Ezra,Malcolm Forbs, Fergus, and Dobie Gillis.  Dobie and I have walked these streets together for ten years.  We seldom miss a day.  Dobie knows where each dog lives and the trees that hold his hunted treasure.  His prey flees at his presence.  Their shaggy tails and beady eyes gawk at his awkward attempts to catch them as they quickly climb a tree.   Clutching a nut,they watched him with little interest as he smelled around and around the tree.  He was never a threat to them ,  and they knew they could torment him with their chatter and scolding.

Suddenly, these daily walks are more important.  In fact, I have cried on each of the walks for the last couple of weeks.  On each walk, no matter what time, someone comes out to greet me or a fellow walker stops to tell me they will be sad not seeing Dobie and I on our walks.  Today, an old friend with her walking stick stopped to chat.  I told her we would be leaving in a week.  She teared up and said she understood why, but I would be missed.  We have been friends a long time and had history together.  Thirty-five years ago her husband flew her , Denny , John Foster, and me to Naples , Fla. to spend spring break with  my parents.  It was a chiller trek of near misses.  The plane was so small that John sat amidst the luggage.  We were such responsible parents in 1975. Even with our poor judgement, God saw us through fog, we missed a tower by few feet, and dodged an unexpected plane in our course, or were we in its path?  We just trusted God would protect and He did.

Once again I am trusting God to protect and guide us on our new move.  He has gone ahead of us every step of the way.  Selling and buying a house in less than a month seemed a simple task with Him in charge.  Now, Dobie and I will walk new streets alone.  No former students will wave hello.  Walkers won’t stop to ask for prayer requests for their family.  Neighbors won’t wander to the curb to tell me their latest story about their child’s success.  I won’t know who decorates until I see the orange pumpkins and lighted Christmas trees.  Dobie must discover  where the Fort Wayne squirrels hang out.  Our walks may be a bit lonely at first.  I will have ample time to pray and seek, but I will miss my morning and evening greetings from my long time neighbors, friends, and former students. 

I realize in one week this chapter ends.  These streets will be exchanged for new streets.  However, I know these neighbors can never be replaced.  The Bozes, Hills, Calverts, and Headricks have been my neighbors for forty years. We reared our children together and watched over them as if each were our own. They are my family and will be sorely missed. Newer neighbors that have occupied our block for the last twenty years include Davises , Hartsocks,  Ringos and Barb Norrick.  They too have fit into our Yosemite family and become wonderful friends .  This Yosemite  community has proven true  the proverb, " Love your neighbors like yourself."  When someone needed  laughter, consoling, help, prayer, a fresh tomato or a simple cup of sugar, these people provided those needs.  Thank you, Country Village, for giving so much love and support through our  forty years.

A New Chapter of Life

 

A Most Unusual Memorial Day

            “To every thing there is a season.”  I was so excited in 1973 when we moved into our new home. We had it built to our specifications and were ready for our new chapter of life, living in Country Village.  We had only one child, age three, at that time.  Life was good and new neighbors were friendly. The years brought another baby boy and twenty years of Young Life meetings in our new home.  Church friends and prayer meetings filled our living area.  I loved cooking and they loved eating here and praying. 

            Teens hung out in our garage and played pool and stayed all night.  Those same teens appeared at Delta High School in my English classes.  Hours of planning and grading papers took up many evenings.  Weekends were filled with soccer, wrestling, football and tennis games as we watched our sons compete.  Holiday meals and celebrations filled every corner of our home and remodeling projects continued through 2010. 

            We love our house, and the endless borders of gardens around our lawn.  But, the season is over.  With a beginning prayer, meditation, discussions for a week, and a continued confirmation that God wanted us to move, I biked over to a stranger’s home around the corner.  A friend at lunch told me this family was renting and looking for a house in Country Village. I appeared at their door , introduced myself, and said, “ I  think you need to see our house.”  They had three real estate visits that evening , but said they could come to our house on Friday.  They loved our house, confirmed on Sat. they wanted it , and bought it on Memorial Day.   

            Now, I am rejoicing that I can live in the same town with my granddaughters, and stay longer in Englewood, Fla. during the winter. My sister sold her house the same week and for the first time in over sixty years, we can live near each other and paint together.
      It is bittersweet rejoicing because I am leaving my neighbors of forty years.  We have shared joys and losses together.  We helped raise each other’s children.  My best friend and I have walked the Country Village circle hundreds and hundreds of times discussing our lives and our children’s lives.   We know every tree, house, and crack in the streets.  However, everything has a season and my time in Muncie is over.  I am sad to leave good friends, Commonway, my church, my writer’s groups, my art friends, and the countless number of students I have taught and watched grow and have families of their own. 

            Denny and I begin a new chapter in our retirement.  I am sorting, purging and selling household items.  I want to travel light in these next years.  I have so many things for sale: arts and crafts, dishes, furniture, linens, and antiques.  I will be posting soon about sale opportunities. 

            However, my facebook friends come with me wherever I roam.  For that I am grateful. By blog will help me stay in touch with my friends and followers.  My heart will always remain in Muncie because this town has given me many close friends and opportunities.  At the end of July we will move.  I suspect my blog may be a little neglected these next couple of months,  but I will continue it when we get settled in Fort Wayne. Thank you, Muncie for all your love.

Leaves of Meaning

Copyrighted art by Sandi Baron

Each autumn season reminds me of one very special fall ten years ago.  Our youngest son, Adam, moved to Seattle that previous summer.  I was missing him so much.

  I am always humbled by the beauty of the color of the leaves and the response of the trees to shed on God’s cue each fall.  This colorful rhythmic pattern is evidence of our Father’s masterful plan. 

I taught our sons to enjoy jumping in the leaves when they were small.  Now I jump in the leaves with my granddaughters.  It is the right of passage to celebrate the oncoming holidays.  

I remember leaf collections were assigned as science projects in the fall.  Adam and I would tromp through our neighborhood, the woods, and the unoccupied back streets searching for each kind of leaf.  We would return, mount them as instructed, label them with the label maker, and gloat over our leaf knowledge.

However, this year there were no leaf trampers or rakers, or no leaf projects. I returned home and as I walked in the door the phone was ringing.

“Hey, Mom, I’m thinkin’ of fall...really miss the colors.”

“ No autumn in Washington?” I asked.

“Nope, just not the same kind of trees here. No golden coins flying through the air.”

“ Well, what was your adventure last weekend?” I asked.

“Climbed a trail.  Saw a bear.  Met a new climbing bud.”

“Oh, my gosh.  That sounds exciting.”

“Hey , Mom, send me a fall photo, OK? Gotta run. Bye.”

I had an idea.  I would collect leaves in the neighborhood and put them in a mailing envelope.  I started my journey by walking across the street to the Calvert’s and Hill’s yards.   They were outside visiting and I told them my mission and they entered in enthusiastically.

“Put in my red maple leaf.  I know he will remember playing in these red leaves,” said the neighbor.

As I reached the corner, I explained to another neighbor my project ,and he chimed in, “ Hey, tell Adam hi and this is my best sycamore leaf.”

I rounded the corner and walked past his middle school principal’s house.  I told him I was sending leaves to Adam, and he offered greetings and a perfect oak leaf.

Next, on the street was Adam’s former librarian, “ Here, take these two giant bronze leaves and tell Adam they remind me of him, shiny and bright.”

My collection was increasing as were the greetings.  It touched my heart how neighbors admired their leaves and gave warm salutations of love.  I continued collecting burgundy, gold, bright neon green, and golden leaves.  When I returned home, I added the greeting each neighbor had sent on the back of the leaf they selected.  

I mailed my package and waited to hear from Adam.

“Hey, Mom, my floor is filled with colored leaves.  They even smell like Indiana.  I really enjoyed all the notes from the neighbors.  It feels like autumn. This is the best gift ever.  I love you Mom.”  I hung up the phone and his words have lingered in my heart for ten years. So, I share this very special autumn memory as I realize the leaves are all gone, and now I must prepare for winter memories.

My tribute to my friend and nieghbor,Linda Calvert

My Christmas celebrations came to a halt yesterday.  My neighbor past away in her sleep.  Linda will have the ultimate Christmas .  She will be singing with the angels and praising God in the highest.  She will understand fully how the life of Christ was the light of her.  I can't imagine what joy she must feel basking in His glory  and His encompassing light .  I can only know she is walking on the streets of gold with Christ because she lived her live for Him and the family that He gave her.

Linda and Larry Calvert have been our neighbors for over thirty-five years.  I have a large front window .  Through this window, I have watched the Calverts' children play and grow.  We have gone through many snows together and helped dig each other out.  We have planted every spring and talked about these plantings and our expectations.  We have pruned every fall and discussed how this would help our plants next year.  As I have looked out my window through these years, I have watched Linda and Larry as a team.  I have watched them pack their van for a trips to Branson, the Smokey Mountains, and the Rockies.  I have watched them return and heard their enjoyable reports of their trips together.  In fact, through the years, the Calverts have made my daily journal entries many times.  They are the kind of neighbors that you dream of having. They are always there if we needed help, water, or other emergencies.

Linda and I loved sitting on the porch and looking over the neighborhood and talking of how things have changed or not changed. I must admit that I would have to coax her to stop and sit.  She was always busy with household projects or trips to town.  We considered it a blessing that several of the residence on our street had been neighbors since the early seventies.  We discussed Angie's upcoming marriage, her first baby, and her job.  We talked of Nate's diabetes and then his new fiance, wedding plans, job, and life in Indy.

We considered how blessed we were to have husbands that took such good care of us and were faithful to God and His teachings.  We laughed about grandchildren antics and aspirations.  We never tired of talking about her flowers and mine.  We reported our first hummingbird citing as well as how much we fed the local bird population.  We talked often of God's constant care and blessings.  We asked each other for prayer and knew that we would seek our Father's best for each other.

I showed Linda my first painting, and as usual, she was so complimentary.  She was always interested in my current projects or our trips, our son's activities, and  our new home improvements.  She was a pure, pure spirit.  I loved the gentle light that glowed within her.  She was calming to be around.  When she shared about Angie and Nate, it wasn't bragging but praise for how good God was to them.  She was never boisterous just kind and loving.  She demonstrated the love of Christ in her inquiries and her explanations of life's happenings.

Before Linda's heart surgery last spring, she shared that she was dreading it.  We talked of how doctor's were well trained now and how God would be holding her hand.  She recovered so quickly.  She was home and talking to us the very week of her surgery.  She said it was painful but manageable.  That was so Linda.  She liked focusing on the best, the light, the strength, and the joy in her life.  That is what I loved about Linda.  She wasn't critical but concerned.  She wasn't negative but positive.  She wasn't focused on worldly fashion, possessions, or money.  Instead, she shared her love for her family, her granddaughters, nature, and  God's beauty.  She was the right person to hang around if  I was feeling sad or discontent.  Her conversations gave me a lift, a smile, and a portion of her gentle light.

I will miss that light outside my window.  I will miss her sweet, childlike smile.  I will try to learn from her and not focus on grieving but instead on her wonderful life eternal.  God planted a beautiful woman in my life.  I know we shall meet again one day.  Until then, I will remember all her dedication to her  "workouts" at the YMCA, her love of retirement because she could at last sleep late,  her  fastidious attention to her church family,and her diligence in being Larry's handmaiden.

Yes, sweet friend, you will be missed.

When her bulbs bloom this spring, they will beckon a hello to me from Linda smiling down from heaven's gates.                  

My Neighborhood Circle

My Neighborhood Circle

I have lived in my neighborhood for thirty-eight years. I have walked the circle path for thirty years. I know every drive way, each landscape and flower and tree like the back of my hand. Countless steps record memories of new babies being born on our block. Other steps remind me of the day I heard weeping in these streets because three teen boys were killed in an auto wreck on their way home from school. My memories include neighbors that moved out of our addition and new ones that chose to live here. All these mesh in the paths of my brain. I pray walk and talk to God about their different needs. Each time I walk a familiar “neighbor story” surfaces for a few seconds. Children have died, moms have been abandoned by husbands, and in the last few years three men in our small community have been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Husbands have gained jobs and new opportunities that moved them from my circle path. Other families have lost their jobs when the economy turned for the worst. Many have battled cancer, heart conditions, and other illnesses.

Many of my former students now own these homes. It lifts my spirits when I pass by their homes and see how well they are doing on their earth journey. They frequently call out to me, wave to me, or stop me to tell me their latest family news or prayer request. These are the perks from teaching thirty-three years in the same area.

Tonight was especially warm and humid. I decided biking might be cooler than walking. I made numerous stops. First Jake had such a long face because school was starting already. Next, I passed Angie, who I taught 28 years ago. She looked the same to me, just a little more like a mom than a teen. We reminisced about past teachers of English at Delta. We laughed that she now had a senior there. The full circle of life was apparent to me as we talked of her days at Delta.

Next, I saw my neighbor, Ivy. He has been in Iraq the last couple of years. I have been faithful to pray for his safety and health. There he was standing on his driveway as I biked up his street. I stopped and gave him a long hug and thanked him for risking his life to protect our country. Tearfully I welcomed him back. He said all of our prayers had sustained him.

Then, I passed another teacher friend who had borrowed my recumbent today. She loved her ride to Gaston with her dad. She is convinced that she needs a recumbent bike. She was sneaking to a neighbor’s to engage in a playful trick. Her eyes sparkled as much as when she was a teenager.

These are my neighbors, my former students, my friends, and my inspiration. There are people in my neighborhood that need a hot meal, an invitation to our simple patio outings, or just a smile and a wave. These long walks have shaped me in many ways. Granted, they have strengthened my heart, as well as made me grateful for such wonderful neighbors. On my block, there are five families that have been neighbors for over thirty-five years. We really care deeply for each other.

Face to face friends and neighbors are essential to my character and daily life. God has graciously surrounded me with so much love and support. I guess that is why I keep walking the village circle. I am just blessed and shaped by my neighbors.