Mike’s never been much of a team sports guy. He played a little baseball as a child and tried, like every red-blooded Hoosier boy, to make the basketball team. But by high school, his size separated him from that dream. They grew ‘em big in Kokomo, even in the ‘60s.
He found his athletic niche in the chlorine of the local pool. From his early days, he has swum competitively. He began as a tad at the YMCA and moved on to high school to compete at the state level. All the while, he and his buddies were coached by the legend, the man, the MAL. Stories about Mal the coach are mythic around here, and they grow with the passing of years and the aging of the story tellers. Mal was demanding. His coaching style was often ‘physical.’ Mal used kick boards in all sorts of creative, motivational ways. If only a fraction of what the boys claim is true, let’s just say that he was not overly concerned with their fragile self-images or backsides..or heads; he pushed them to win.
And WIN they did, the longest dual-meet, consecutive win streak in Indiana history. They were never beaten in four years.
When he retired from coaching, Mal became a guidance counselor and he and I became colleagues and friends. One day, when I casually mentioned that I had eaten lunch with Mal, Mike’s jaw dropped. I don’t know if it was that I actually conversed with Mal or that he ate lunch like normal people.
Recently, Mike said, “You know that whenever I saw that man, into my 50s, he still hit me.”
“Hit you?” I asked.
He then demonstrated. A punch to the shoulder and “Are you still working out, you worm?” This ended in Mike’s 50’s as Mal moved on to that chorine pool in the sky.
I mentioned, in that context, that HE will also be waiting to greet the hub when he walks into heaven. A momentary wince crossed his eyes. “He probably won’t hit you in Heaven.”
Unless he needs it.
And for the record, let me say that the Mal I knew was a gentle, soft-spoken man, married to a teacher and father to a brilliant daughter on whom he doted. He served as a church deacon and Sunday School teacher and when he passed on, the church was filled to the walls with friends, fans and former swim team members.
Mal’s influence on Mike is also legendary. Mal inspired Mike to push himself to be the best and that has shaped his career as well as his marriage and his relationships with his family and friends. And to this day, Mike finds something ethereal when he plops into a body of water and swims. For some, the monotony of lap swimming would bore them quickly. For athletes, I believe, this is their special refuge. They are alone, with their thoughts. In recent weeks, Mike says, he uses this time for prayer.
On a practical level, the skills that Mal helped hone won the hub a scholarship to Wheaton College where he competed during his freshman year. He might not have chosen Wheaton had they not sweetened the deal. THEN, he might not have met his future wife on that cold November morning when, fresh from swim practice and with his hair still dripping, he watched me slip and sit into the street, up to my waist in slush.
Wet and cold met cold and wet.
Love would bloom later when we had both dried off.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Some things we'll NEVER get right
A few years ago, I was the driver on a road trip. My customers were a long-married couple. We had fun touring the Midwest and I learned a lot, as one will do when confined for hours and days to an automobile.
Throughout the trip, I noted that these folks fussed at each other...nothing major...over HIS driving and HER decisions about money. (I was driving and making those decisions.) I remember noting that apparently, even in good, long marriages, such topics may never reach resolution.
And that gives me permission to confess that there are some things we, Mike and Lynne, will never get right.
We cannot make up a bed together. As our ‘rule’ is last-one-up and that’s usually the hub, this is no big deal. However, the occasional weekend partner-try results in frustration.
My method is to pull up the sheet and blanket, pull up the spread and then fold it down to place the pillows. I then tuck the folded part up and over the pillows. Mike likes to pull up the sheet and blanket, place the pillows and then pull up the spread, tucking under at the pillow line. I cannot make a bed using his method. And he’s…well he’s not only left-handed; he’s the eldest child…so HIS method is THE method.
We have bickered about this and as we are now both at home during the bed ritual, the issue occasionally rears its pillowed head, as it were. So, I must either cringe and do it his way, tell him to leave it to me, or walk away. The difference between early years and now is that I can smile. And so can he…but he’s still right.
We also cannot load the dishwasher together. I try to put items where they will best be washed AND protected. (glassware on top and not touching, etc.) HIS method gets everything in and the machine closed as quickly as possible. It is not uncommon to find glasses broken and scattered from the bottom shelf.
Is this small? Well, yes. But…………
So while I’m quick to move away from bed making, I’m equally quick in taking over this task.
Of course, NOBODY in the house wants to empty the dishwasher but again, my method is to put things in the general areas that they belong. Mike wants everything put away ASAP so should he do this task, I’ll later ask, “Where’s that large Pyrex measuring cup?” and he will shrug.
That’s also a challenge when we deal with the clutter issue. I tolerate a lot more clutter than does the hub. Actually I LIKE clutter in a nesting sort of way. If my stuff is out and I can see it, I can keep track of it. He likes blank, empty horizontal surfaces and then can’t find things.
We’ve made peace with each other’s stuff management…I try to keep mine in check and in only a few places and he tries not to look at it.
It was difficult in those early years when we were more stressed out from graduate school. More than once, I would walk into the apartment and pass a horizontal ledge at eye level and realize that is was cleared of whatever decoration I had left on it. “Uh, where is the cut glass wedding gift vase from Tiffany’s.”
Shrug.
I did not need to check the bottom shelf of the dishwasher because we did not have one in those days. I just needed to search all drawers for the vase.
There are also some special challenges when we team up to lift, move, or turn over something large…planks of wood, small sail boats, book cases. This took a while to figure out, but as a south paw, Mike will turn things in the opposite direction than a right-hander would. As team items are just heavy enough that a slip would result in a drop, we have to remind each other which way we’re going or a mini disaster might occur.
And folding large sheets or towels? Don’t even ask. Even if we had another 10, 20, 30 years, I doubt we would ever get some things right.
So many of the quibbles that make up the day-to-day of our marriage are small. The trick is to keep them trivial. And as we face the future with our arms around each other, we are tossing the trivial.
Throughout the trip, I noted that these folks fussed at each other...nothing major...over HIS driving and HER decisions about money. (I was driving and making those decisions.) I remember noting that apparently, even in good, long marriages, such topics may never reach resolution.
And that gives me permission to confess that there are some things we, Mike and Lynne, will never get right.
We cannot make up a bed together. As our ‘rule’ is last-one-up and that’s usually the hub, this is no big deal. However, the occasional weekend partner-try results in frustration.
My method is to pull up the sheet and blanket, pull up the spread and then fold it down to place the pillows. I then tuck the folded part up and over the pillows. Mike likes to pull up the sheet and blanket, place the pillows and then pull up the spread, tucking under at the pillow line. I cannot make a bed using his method. And he’s…well he’s not only left-handed; he’s the eldest child…so HIS method is THE method.
We have bickered about this and as we are now both at home during the bed ritual, the issue occasionally rears its pillowed head, as it were. So, I must either cringe and do it his way, tell him to leave it to me, or walk away. The difference between early years and now is that I can smile. And so can he…but he’s still right.
We also cannot load the dishwasher together. I try to put items where they will best be washed AND protected. (glassware on top and not touching, etc.) HIS method gets everything in and the machine closed as quickly as possible. It is not uncommon to find glasses broken and scattered from the bottom shelf.
Is this small? Well, yes. But…………
So while I’m quick to move away from bed making, I’m equally quick in taking over this task.
Of course, NOBODY in the house wants to empty the dishwasher but again, my method is to put things in the general areas that they belong. Mike wants everything put away ASAP so should he do this task, I’ll later ask, “Where’s that large Pyrex measuring cup?” and he will shrug.
That’s also a challenge when we deal with the clutter issue. I tolerate a lot more clutter than does the hub. Actually I LIKE clutter in a nesting sort of way. If my stuff is out and I can see it, I can keep track of it. He likes blank, empty horizontal surfaces and then can’t find things.
We’ve made peace with each other’s stuff management…I try to keep mine in check and in only a few places and he tries not to look at it.
It was difficult in those early years when we were more stressed out from graduate school. More than once, I would walk into the apartment and pass a horizontal ledge at eye level and realize that is was cleared of whatever decoration I had left on it. “Uh, where is the cut glass wedding gift vase from Tiffany’s.”
Shrug.
I did not need to check the bottom shelf of the dishwasher because we did not have one in those days. I just needed to search all drawers for the vase.
There are also some special challenges when we team up to lift, move, or turn over something large…planks of wood, small sail boats, book cases. This took a while to figure out, but as a south paw, Mike will turn things in the opposite direction than a right-hander would. As team items are just heavy enough that a slip would result in a drop, we have to remind each other which way we’re going or a mini disaster might occur.
And folding large sheets or towels? Don’t even ask. Even if we had another 10, 20, 30 years, I doubt we would ever get some things right.
So many of the quibbles that make up the day-to-day of our marriage are small. The trick is to keep them trivial. And as we face the future with our arms around each other, we are tossing the trivial.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Cruise Update
As some of you know, I have been plotting to take my husband away. Insight for Living will be cruising up the inside passage in Alaska at the end of the month. As Mike has now devoured all of the Great Lives series, I thought he would really enjoy spending time with Chuck Swindoll and some great musical talent.
I began my research and then...well...plotted to talk him into it. It would involve a day of travel to Seattle and the spending of the night there. I had researched not-too-fancy motels near the docks that would make embarkation easy. I've been on the deck of the ship more times than the captain. I've chosen our stateroom and even talked to the cruise director to made sure we'd have what we needed/wanted.
When Mike was initially reluctant, I told him that if he wanted, he could just sit on our private veranda and watch Alaska go by. He began to cave.
Several family members even made monetary contributions to this excursion. It looked like such a good idea. My prayer was that Mike would agree and that it would all go smoothly.
Here's another thing about the author. I'm not too good on picking up God's leading. I CAN be lulled into thinking that MY ways ARE His ways. And, why wouldn't God want us to enjoy this trip and grow spiritually? Of course He would.
And when I'm in THAT 'zone,' the caution lights grow dim to my vision. Here's a problem. "No problem." Maybe you want to rethink. "Rethink? Bah." Is this best for you? "Well, sure it is. How can it NOT be?"
Keep praying, brothers and sisters. I'm learning.
I called again today, just to make sure the cruise is not sold out. (It's not) The agent reminded me that we would need our passports. No problem. We have passports. We used them the last time we flew.
So I got them out. Mike's was issued on June 10, 1999. That's right. It expires TOMORROW.
Tomorrow. That's less than three weeks from the cruise. It takes longer than that to get a renewal.
Yes, I know. There are ways around that. When Allyson went to England with Mike...I believe it was in June 1999...we discovered that HER passport had expired. The tickets were purchased and the trip was only days away.
You can see we are not big international travelers.
What to do, what to do? You can call to a regional passport office..the government's definition of 'regional' is a bit broad..for us it's Chicago or Detroit. You may be able to make an appointment. We did. In the early morning, we drove to Chicago, downtown, parked and found the office. It was full of other travelers who needed quick action for a passport. We had to show the printed itinerary and then wait for 4 hours to get the document.
We had a great time shopping on State Street, but it was a long day. We got back home around 9 PM.
So my first thought, when I looked at Mike's passport was "no big deal, we'll just drive to Chicago."
Then...and aren't you all praying for wisdom here...God whispered some possibilities in my ear. Like I would have had to have paid for the cruise. nonrefundable at this point. Plus I'd have to get the air tickets. THEN, what if we got a flat? What if we missed the appointment?
And, after all, is a full day romping around downtown Chicago all that good for the hub?
I'm now convinced that he would just go along, not complain, not show me how tired all this makes him, just to please me. What a guy!
And what a God! It's now clear to me that God has blocked this trip, for His reasons. He IS God, after all. (and I am not.....)
I told Mike at dinner about the complication and that we probably should forget the cruise. Can you spell R-E-L-I-E-F? It spread all over his face.
What he's doing instead....I asked him to renew his passport the old fashioned way. "Who knows? I may take you somewhere later in the summer." All smiles from me.
He just jumped on his motorcycle and is picking up photos at Walgreens. While he's there, he'll get a passport photo taken.
Oh, in case you're wondering....mine is good until 2011.
Thanks for your prayers. God is teaching us many things.
I began my research and then...well...plotted to talk him into it. It would involve a day of travel to Seattle and the spending of the night there. I had researched not-too-fancy motels near the docks that would make embarkation easy. I've been on the deck of the ship more times than the captain. I've chosen our stateroom and even talked to the cruise director to made sure we'd have what we needed/wanted.
When Mike was initially reluctant, I told him that if he wanted, he could just sit on our private veranda and watch Alaska go by. He began to cave.
Several family members even made monetary contributions to this excursion. It looked like such a good idea. My prayer was that Mike would agree and that it would all go smoothly.
Here's another thing about the author. I'm not too good on picking up God's leading. I CAN be lulled into thinking that MY ways ARE His ways. And, why wouldn't God want us to enjoy this trip and grow spiritually? Of course He would.
And when I'm in THAT 'zone,' the caution lights grow dim to my vision. Here's a problem. "No problem." Maybe you want to rethink. "Rethink? Bah." Is this best for you? "Well, sure it is. How can it NOT be?"
Keep praying, brothers and sisters. I'm learning.
I called again today, just to make sure the cruise is not sold out. (It's not) The agent reminded me that we would need our passports. No problem. We have passports. We used them the last time we flew.
So I got them out. Mike's was issued on June 10, 1999. That's right. It expires TOMORROW.
Tomorrow. That's less than three weeks from the cruise. It takes longer than that to get a renewal.
Yes, I know. There are ways around that. When Allyson went to England with Mike...I believe it was in June 1999...we discovered that HER passport had expired. The tickets were purchased and the trip was only days away.
You can see we are not big international travelers.
What to do, what to do? You can call to a regional passport office..the government's definition of 'regional' is a bit broad..for us it's Chicago or Detroit. You may be able to make an appointment. We did. In the early morning, we drove to Chicago, downtown, parked and found the office. It was full of other travelers who needed quick action for a passport. We had to show the printed itinerary and then wait for 4 hours to get the document.
We had a great time shopping on State Street, but it was a long day. We got back home around 9 PM.
So my first thought, when I looked at Mike's passport was "no big deal, we'll just drive to Chicago."
Then...and aren't you all praying for wisdom here...God whispered some possibilities in my ear. Like I would have had to have paid for the cruise. nonrefundable at this point. Plus I'd have to get the air tickets. THEN, what if we got a flat? What if we missed the appointment?
And, after all, is a full day romping around downtown Chicago all that good for the hub?
I'm now convinced that he would just go along, not complain, not show me how tired all this makes him, just to please me. What a guy!
And what a God! It's now clear to me that God has blocked this trip, for His reasons. He IS God, after all. (and I am not.....)
I told Mike at dinner about the complication and that we probably should forget the cruise. Can you spell R-E-L-I-E-F? It spread all over his face.
What he's doing instead....I asked him to renew his passport the old fashioned way. "Who knows? I may take you somewhere later in the summer." All smiles from me.
He just jumped on his motorcycle and is picking up photos at Walgreens. While he's there, he'll get a passport photo taken.
Oh, in case you're wondering....mine is good until 2011.
Thanks for your prayers. God is teaching us many things.
Reflection on a marriage
“You ready, Lyndie?”
With that and my nod, Dad tucked my left hand under his arm and we stepped on the white runner that lined the main aisle of Lincoln Park First Baptist Church.
This was his second offspring’s wedding and Dad knew his job. Ask few questions. Be available. Write checks. Show up on time. Walk this daughter down the aisle and hand her off to that red haired guy she brought home from college. Wish them well. Pray, pray, pray.
What was he asking, this man who could always let me be his little girl? No matter how old, I was Lyndie (Lou) and he was Daddy.
The year before the wedding, I had been away from his home, beginning my teaching career. A few phone calls, several trips home for bridal showers and the choosing of festivity arrangements…that was about it for Daddy/daughter time. Mom had been in the details and Dad, well, he had been on the financial end for this second sending off of a child.
Was I ready? For the show? Sure. With the ultimate wedding planner (Mom) all was set and ready. The dress, the dresses, the groomsmen and their duds, flowers, church decorations, time frame, organist, reception, honeymoon.
(Historical note: 1st class postage rates had just gone up to 10 cents. This was my part of the wedding expense)
Out-of-town guests had found their way. The pre-ceremony primping, the raised eyebrows at our choice of music, the unusual high noon commencement. Light the candles. Dim the lights. Places, everybody.
And then, Dad. “You ready, Lyndie?”
For what, Daddy? For my new adventure? For this next chapter in my life? As one who rarely gazes far into the future, well, sure. No problem. Let’s go!
This man, who along with his wife, had lived the example of a committed marriage for his children. This man who had seen a lot of life, had lived with parents who set the same example. Married. Keep only unto you. Til Death. He knew that it was more than that day's dance in the fancy white dress.
As I strolled to my waiting fiancé, I was grinning as wide as my face could stretch. I maintained that grin throughout, having a carnival of a time. We got through those vows. We squeezed fingers with ‘better, richer, health.” These were our hopes. We smooched. We turned; we sauntered down the aisle, a married couple. Whoo Hoo.
Ready? For the bumps that come when two become one? For inevitable arguments, hurts, compromises, and advancement? How does one prepare?
Our first fight broke out on Sunday night, 18 hours after all the Fa La La. Part of my fallen nature is a capacity to remember. My love informed me that, in our home, HE would select all the furniture AND it would be Early American.
Let’s just say we were tired from our big weekend. We had no money to buy furniture, let alone a house. We knew we would have at least three years of tight budgeting, while Mike attended law school and I worked on my Master’s Degree, living on a young teacher’s salary. So his point was moot.
And those of you who know the author also know that when it comes to decorating, well, let’s just say that our early crate/cinder block/mattress-on-the-floor motif suited me just fine. BUT being informed, being told, intimating that I no longer had any rights, well THAT was a straw (not the last straw; we haven’t found it yet).
So, BOOM, the first fight. And there were others, especially during that first year. All those prayers. We were able to figure out a pattern; we saw that by Thursday night we were both so tired that it took nothing, not even the mention of furniture, to set one or both of us off. How many Fridays did I go to school with heavy brown eye shadow to ‘hide’ the puffy eyes? How many times did I look at myself in the mirror and say, “What have you gotten yourself INTO???”
Our solution was OUR solution which we reached on a calm, Sunday afternoon. We agreed that whenever one of us was just fixin’ for a fight, no matter what day it was, the other could say “Thursday” and that meant “End of discussion.” We had many more Thursdays than we had weeks in those first few years.
And, I’m wondering, how many brides would have stuck it out? Although it’s easier today, it was plenty easy to uncouple in the early years of our marriage. Easy except for
His parents…they were praying.
My parents…they were praying.
And those vows. “In front of God and these witnesses (each costing me 20 cents)” Better/Worse. You hope and squeeze for Better. Sometimes, you get Worse.
God does not take vows casually. He keeps His promises. He wants His children to follow His example.
When He said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” (Hebrews 13:5) He meant it. And His perfect plan for marriage is that His children will not leave nor forsake each other. He intends that they will become each other’s support and strength.
When you don’t think you need all that support, it’s easy to forget. BUT when life throws you a curve, when all that you had planned crumbles, when God indicates a different, more difficult path, in addition to His presence, you can’t do better than your spouse.
I am so blessed these days. I am held and hugged and honored. The price is dear and the payoff is sweet.
Happy Anniversary to us!
With that and my nod, Dad tucked my left hand under his arm and we stepped on the white runner that lined the main aisle of Lincoln Park First Baptist Church.
This was his second offspring’s wedding and Dad knew his job. Ask few questions. Be available. Write checks. Show up on time. Walk this daughter down the aisle and hand her off to that red haired guy she brought home from college. Wish them well. Pray, pray, pray.
What was he asking, this man who could always let me be his little girl? No matter how old, I was Lyndie (Lou) and he was Daddy.
The year before the wedding, I had been away from his home, beginning my teaching career. A few phone calls, several trips home for bridal showers and the choosing of festivity arrangements…that was about it for Daddy/daughter time. Mom had been in the details and Dad, well, he had been on the financial end for this second sending off of a child.
Was I ready? For the show? Sure. With the ultimate wedding planner (Mom) all was set and ready. The dress, the dresses, the groomsmen and their duds, flowers, church decorations, time frame, organist, reception, honeymoon.
(Historical note: 1st class postage rates had just gone up to 10 cents. This was my part of the wedding expense)
Out-of-town guests had found their way. The pre-ceremony primping, the raised eyebrows at our choice of music, the unusual high noon commencement. Light the candles. Dim the lights. Places, everybody.
And then, Dad. “You ready, Lyndie?”
For what, Daddy? For my new adventure? For this next chapter in my life? As one who rarely gazes far into the future, well, sure. No problem. Let’s go!
This man, who along with his wife, had lived the example of a committed marriage for his children. This man who had seen a lot of life, had lived with parents who set the same example. Married. Keep only unto you. Til Death. He knew that it was more than that day's dance in the fancy white dress.
As I strolled to my waiting fiancé, I was grinning as wide as my face could stretch. I maintained that grin throughout, having a carnival of a time. We got through those vows. We squeezed fingers with ‘better, richer, health.” These were our hopes. We smooched. We turned; we sauntered down the aisle, a married couple. Whoo Hoo.
Ready? For the bumps that come when two become one? For inevitable arguments, hurts, compromises, and advancement? How does one prepare?
Our first fight broke out on Sunday night, 18 hours after all the Fa La La. Part of my fallen nature is a capacity to remember. My love informed me that, in our home, HE would select all the furniture AND it would be Early American.
Let’s just say we were tired from our big weekend. We had no money to buy furniture, let alone a house. We knew we would have at least three years of tight budgeting, while Mike attended law school and I worked on my Master’s Degree, living on a young teacher’s salary. So his point was moot.
And those of you who know the author also know that when it comes to decorating, well, let’s just say that our early crate/cinder block/mattress-on-the-floor motif suited me just fine. BUT being informed, being told, intimating that I no longer had any rights, well THAT was a straw (not the last straw; we haven’t found it yet).
So, BOOM, the first fight. And there were others, especially during that first year. All those prayers. We were able to figure out a pattern; we saw that by Thursday night we were both so tired that it took nothing, not even the mention of furniture, to set one or both of us off. How many Fridays did I go to school with heavy brown eye shadow to ‘hide’ the puffy eyes? How many times did I look at myself in the mirror and say, “What have you gotten yourself INTO???”
Our solution was OUR solution which we reached on a calm, Sunday afternoon. We agreed that whenever one of us was just fixin’ for a fight, no matter what day it was, the other could say “Thursday” and that meant “End of discussion.” We had many more Thursdays than we had weeks in those first few years.
And, I’m wondering, how many brides would have stuck it out? Although it’s easier today, it was plenty easy to uncouple in the early years of our marriage. Easy except for
His parents…they were praying.
My parents…they were praying.
And those vows. “In front of God and these witnesses (each costing me 20 cents)” Better/Worse. You hope and squeeze for Better. Sometimes, you get Worse.
God does not take vows casually. He keeps His promises. He wants His children to follow His example.
When He said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” (Hebrews 13:5) He meant it. And His perfect plan for marriage is that His children will not leave nor forsake each other. He intends that they will become each other’s support and strength.
When you don’t think you need all that support, it’s easy to forget. BUT when life throws you a curve, when all that you had planned crumbles, when God indicates a different, more difficult path, in addition to His presence, you can’t do better than your spouse.
I am so blessed these days. I am held and hugged and honored. The price is dear and the payoff is sweet.
Happy Anniversary to us!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Hot hot hot
We are in San Antonio, visiting with Jeremy/Allyson and those gorgeous, very active boys. The local news says we are having an uncharacteristic 'cold snap' meaning it's only 90 today.
Last night, we all went to their fitness center, nothing like I've ever seen before. Huge. Busy. The boys showed off their skills as the sun was setting. (85 degrees) Noah (3) is fearless, jumping into the deep water..for him that's about 4 feet but deep is deep. Drew can now put his head in the water and, using 'big arms,' take a few strokes.
And the grampa, for the first time in a long time, donned goggles and swam laps. He has a graceful, efficient stroke, honed during his competitive days. It looked good and it felt good.
The gramma, who did not bring a swim suit, just sat and enjoyed the performance.
Mike had told me that he had spoken personally to most of the people he needed to except his daughter, so this trip was essential for getting that done. Last night, they went out to dinner, just the two of them. It was a good dinner.
While we are here there has been much watching of baseball. We will be back in the frigid north this weekend and then, before we know it, Jeremy and the boys will join us for the summer. The house will be full and singing. We converted the upstairs 'guitar room' back to a bedroom and moved Mike's guitar set up to the living room. There's plenty of room for a jam session....I'm just sayin......
We continue to covet the prayers of our friends. God is walking with us. Satan is trying to catch up. It is an illuminating race. The travel is tiring so that can be a specific for you. Also, we will have our first High Contrast CAT on 6/15 with discussion of same on 6/19, so THAT can be a specific also.
We are so blessed with all of you. Stay cool. (Not really possible in San Antonio) : )
Last night, we all went to their fitness center, nothing like I've ever seen before. Huge. Busy. The boys showed off their skills as the sun was setting. (85 degrees) Noah (3) is fearless, jumping into the deep water..for him that's about 4 feet but deep is deep. Drew can now put his head in the water and, using 'big arms,' take a few strokes.
And the grampa, for the first time in a long time, donned goggles and swam laps. He has a graceful, efficient stroke, honed during his competitive days. It looked good and it felt good.
The gramma, who did not bring a swim suit, just sat and enjoyed the performance.
Mike had told me that he had spoken personally to most of the people he needed to except his daughter, so this trip was essential for getting that done. Last night, they went out to dinner, just the two of them. It was a good dinner.
While we are here there has been much watching of baseball. We will be back in the frigid north this weekend and then, before we know it, Jeremy and the boys will join us for the summer. The house will be full and singing. We converted the upstairs 'guitar room' back to a bedroom and moved Mike's guitar set up to the living room. There's plenty of room for a jam session....I'm just sayin......
We continue to covet the prayers of our friends. God is walking with us. Satan is trying to catch up. It is an illuminating race. The travel is tiring so that can be a specific for you. Also, we will have our first High Contrast CAT on 6/15 with discussion of same on 6/19, so THAT can be a specific also.
We are so blessed with all of you. Stay cool. (Not really possible in San Antonio) : )
Monday, June 1, 2009
So, welcome to the lake
So what about this Lake Cottage? You see a photo at the top of this blog. It is a quiet, healing place for Mike and holds many family memories from the past 15 or so years.
Some of you have visited us here. Some have spent a night or two. For overnight guests, two words: Salsa Eggs.
One of the many things that Mike does at the lake: he takes over all the cooking AND the clean up of said cooking. Really. And for breakfast, he makes his signature dish and serves it to whoever is sitting at the dining room table. He fires up all four burners and cooks bacon, scrambled eggs, and French toast. He serves each plate with some cut up fresh fruit (right now, it’s strawberries) arranged carefully and then, the piece de resistance, a dollop of hot salsa on the eggs.
He sets the table and pours fresh orange juice for everybody and voila! The plates appear, brief thanks to the Creator and a blessing on the cook, and then we dive in.
When something becomes routine and expected, it can lose its specialness. I have been rediscovering and savoring Salsa Eggs in recent weeks.
We also have a long closed front porch that faces the lake. It’s perfect for the occasional reprieve on a hot day as it is painted all white. We have 5 or 6 white rocking chairs and from time to time, they have all been occupied with friends, sipping on ice tea and watching the sun go down. One day, a friend who was spending some quiet time here, described it as ‘the front porch at the Cracker Barrel in heaven.” I hope he’s right. Every time I rock out there, that image comes to mind.
Inside, as all guest know, we have The Couch. It is a longer-than-usual couch..my 6’3” son can stretch out..it has removable cushions (3 back, 3 seat), it is striped white, blue and green AND has narcotic effects on anyone who lies down on it. As it IS the lake, it’s not uncommon for a guest to just plop down and put his feet up.
We wish now we had committed to photographing everyone who has fallen asleep on this couch because ANYONE who stretches out, no matter what time of day, no matter how already rested he might be, no matter who else is in the room or what kind of noise is in the room…..will be asleep within minutes and it will be a deep, wonderful sleep that lasts for 15, 30, 45, even 60 minutes.
I myself have napped there and one time, I tried to evaluate how the couch sucks you in. You lie there, usually on your back, and within a minute, you feel the weight of your shoulders sinking into the coach. Then the weight of knees, hips, feet, all sink sink sink and then float. You are cushioned and cuddled and you drift off.
So the other day, the hub was stretching out on the couch with the green throw and I was curling up in the blue leather easy chair with the blue throw, when he signaled that he was in need of some cuddling. I joined him and with his arm around my shoulder, my arm around his waist, head snuggled under his chin, our knees zig zagging and our toes touching, we melded into a single lump of person, drifting off to sleep. We kept both throws and cuddled for at least 45 minutes, a warm cocoon on the couch.
I have never felt so peaceful, so secure, so happy all at the same time. I told him I think that when it’s all said and done, THIS may be my best memory of the lake. (I still don’t care for hot salsa.)
Some of you have visited us here. Some have spent a night or two. For overnight guests, two words: Salsa Eggs.
One of the many things that Mike does at the lake: he takes over all the cooking AND the clean up of said cooking. Really. And for breakfast, he makes his signature dish and serves it to whoever is sitting at the dining room table. He fires up all four burners and cooks bacon, scrambled eggs, and French toast. He serves each plate with some cut up fresh fruit (right now, it’s strawberries) arranged carefully and then, the piece de resistance, a dollop of hot salsa on the eggs.
He sets the table and pours fresh orange juice for everybody and voila! The plates appear, brief thanks to the Creator and a blessing on the cook, and then we dive in.
When something becomes routine and expected, it can lose its specialness. I have been rediscovering and savoring Salsa Eggs in recent weeks.
We also have a long closed front porch that faces the lake. It’s perfect for the occasional reprieve on a hot day as it is painted all white. We have 5 or 6 white rocking chairs and from time to time, they have all been occupied with friends, sipping on ice tea and watching the sun go down. One day, a friend who was spending some quiet time here, described it as ‘the front porch at the Cracker Barrel in heaven.” I hope he’s right. Every time I rock out there, that image comes to mind.
Inside, as all guest know, we have The Couch. It is a longer-than-usual couch..my 6’3” son can stretch out..it has removable cushions (3 back, 3 seat), it is striped white, blue and green AND has narcotic effects on anyone who lies down on it. As it IS the lake, it’s not uncommon for a guest to just plop down and put his feet up.
We wish now we had committed to photographing everyone who has fallen asleep on this couch because ANYONE who stretches out, no matter what time of day, no matter how already rested he might be, no matter who else is in the room or what kind of noise is in the room…..will be asleep within minutes and it will be a deep, wonderful sleep that lasts for 15, 30, 45, even 60 minutes.
I myself have napped there and one time, I tried to evaluate how the couch sucks you in. You lie there, usually on your back, and within a minute, you feel the weight of your shoulders sinking into the coach. Then the weight of knees, hips, feet, all sink sink sink and then float. You are cushioned and cuddled and you drift off.
So the other day, the hub was stretching out on the couch with the green throw and I was curling up in the blue leather easy chair with the blue throw, when he signaled that he was in need of some cuddling. I joined him and with his arm around my shoulder, my arm around his waist, head snuggled under his chin, our knees zig zagging and our toes touching, we melded into a single lump of person, drifting off to sleep. We kept both throws and cuddled for at least 45 minutes, a warm cocoon on the couch.
I have never felt so peaceful, so secure, so happy all at the same time. I told him I think that when it’s all said and done, THIS may be my best memory of the lake. (I still don’t care for hot salsa.)
Family Update
We took this photo on Memorial Day 2008. Life was simpler a year ago. One never knows what's in store.Shortly after, daughter Allyson relocated to San Antonio to begin her internship in the Army. Son-in-law Jeremy, in white T-shirt, remained behind to work with Pioneer Seed for the summer. Those cute cute cute little boys are Noah and Drew. Mike and Lynne are in the middle and son Zack is at the far left.
Zack has been on his own in Indianapolis for several years. We never wanted to pressure him but with Mike's illness, his presence here became more than a blessing. As he is currenly unattached, we discussed the possiblity of him moving home for a while. He shared with me that he wanted to spend more time with his dad (and me) and that it's hard to get that done where he was.
So today, Zack moved home. We have a large house...four bathrooms, many nooks, so I'm hoping we don't trip all over each other. But, on many levels, having our son here will be very helpful for us.
We will travel to San Antonio soon and Mike will get to spend some quality, one-on-one time with Allyson. She, however, can't just take up and leave..the Army, you know.
In a few weeks, Jeremy and the boys will be back in Indiana. Oh, that son-in-law! He had a professional opportunity in the field that he loves. He chose, instead, to do another summer with Pioneer Seed because it will bring him closer to Mike. Perhaps they'll take in a baseball game.
They will all stay here, also, so our home will again be fun and full.
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