A rose without thorns.
(Hijacked your picture Shellie because it was so perfect)
Sometimes a few well thought out words can do the trick and other times you can never do justice to something with words.
Words just start to feel like prison bars that are keeping you from getting at the "real deal".
That's what it feels like trying to write a tribute for my grandma.
She was absolutely a rose without thorns.
To name the feelings I feel when I remember her is simply not possible. There aren't words for that sort of thing. I cannot even make up words for that sort of thing.
My cousins did a wonderful job of using words to get us all to the place of feeling those unnameable feelings.
Those feelings that a select group of human beings on earth are blessed enough to share.
You might think I am exaggerating, or just doing what every loving grandchild does when trying to describe the loss of a grandmother but you, my friend, would be wrong.
I am an observer of people. I trained in two universities to be an observer of people.
Birdie Richardson was as unique as they come.
She had bright eyes. At 93 she had bright eyes.
I dare you to live to 93, give birth to 14 babies, see three of them die, raise 11 on a tiny income, lose your husband of 50 years and live on more than 20 years after that and have the bright eyes of a young child.
99% of the population just does not have what it takes.
They weren't just bright, they had a twinkle.
She loved a good story with a hearty laugh at the end.
We all honed our skills at telling that kind of story to Grandma.
Her laugh was a reward that created three generations of skilled and dedicated story tellers and humorist.
She was the spoiling grandma. Some of my cousins may have had another spoiling grandma, but I only had one.
I will never forget the awe my sister and I felt when, staying the night one night with her, we asked for bacon at 8:00 pm and she got out the cast iron skillet and fried up bacon.
I mean she just smiled, got out the skillet and made it. Not one word about how stupid it was to ask for bacon at 8:00 at night or about how she would have to wash a skillet, not one word. She actually seemed happy to do it for us.
To our little child's hearts we just knew something special was happening.
Some people have a hard time making 5 or 6 people feel special. She made 33 grandchildren feel like they each were the most special grandchild ever born. Remembering each birthday, clipping each newspaper article, displaying every card and picture. Making yellow cake with drippy homemade fudge icing.
She loved with abandon. She would abandon pride, rest, free time, possessions, everything for those she loved. The group of people who could count on this kind of love was enormous. Not just 99 living descendants but every relative and friend she ever had. Strangers of foreign shores whom a missionary had stirred her heart for.
Complaints. There were none. Seriously, you may think I am kidding or exaggerating- you would be stone cold wrong.
I would stop on the dusty dirt road as she walked home from a visit and offer a ride only to be refused every time. "No, No I am fine, just walking home. You go on"
Can get something for you?
"I have all I need".
She lived in an old wooden house, wore the same clothes for decades, ate the simplest of foods (off the charts delicious but simple) and never sought a luxury, ever. Don't think for a second she was of simple intellect. She was Valedictorian of her High School at a time when many women never made it to 8th grade. She had a razor sharp mind and memory. She had 11 well educated children who would have bankrupted themselves to fill her life with all this world could have to offer her. She had the opportunity to be and have what the world tells us we all should want, yet did not seek it out.
She turned everyday life, what some would call living in poverty into an art form.
I mean it was like watching DaVinci paint.
You know you were in the presence of a master.
She could make something out of nothing.
Porch sitting became all the counsel and encouragement your soul needed for the day, week or month.
Potato digging day- the fair, carnival and awards day all wrapped into one. Friends and family all around, laughing, comparing potatoes, hauling bushels.
One day she came by our house and I had been drawing with my sister who was much younger and we drew a village of people shaped like hearts. She saw it on the fridge and said "Oh, I love that picture. It's like what our Richardson hill is here. The land of Love."
You see.
Then all of a sudden that silly little picture had meaning and I felt proud to be who I was.
You see.
Something out of nothing.
I know God makes everyone. But oh, with her, with her He was speaking out loud.
She loved God fiercely.
It was what made her journey possible. She would have told you that.
It was her understanding of His unconditional love that made her flow of it so endless.
I have little diamonds, gold nuggets if you will, that I hold tight- days of going to church with her. Sitting with her in the car on the way to church, praising God and how He made the Earth.
Singing the old Hymns with her.
Watching her pray.
(Breath in, Breath out, you can do this Kellie)
No words, No words. If you knew her and can picture these memories, you know. The intensity of those pictures in my mind are overwhelming.
If I am 1/5 of the woman she was, well then, Mission accomplished.
Resistance is futile.
My new Kindle Fire should have just whispered these words to me as I took it out of the box.
I did resist.
I am an avid reader. Usually a book a week. At least.
I have so many good memories of holding a book, especially a hard cover in my hand and curling up on a sofa or in a bed for a good long read.
Those tactile memories stored away in my fingers as they turn the pages and my eyes as they scanned the page. (Okay so the eyes now require glasses but so be it)
Even the smell of a new hard cover- come on you know what I mean, don't deny it.
Last cyber Monday I was lured in by the siren song of low prices to get a Kindle Fire.
Man, O, Man.
Free books, hundreds of them, from websites, the library, loans from friends. Jack pot.
Hundreds of books delivered through invisible waves directly to the Kindle.
Be still my 20th century heart.
Better yet I can place said Kindle in my purse, where it rests, slim, neat in it's hot pink cover (yes I am so girly as to have a hot pink e-reader cover) ready at a moments notice with said hundreds of books.
Yes, I do have to charge it, but it charges more quickly than my phone and keeps a charge for two full days of reading. Don't judge I am a substitute teacher at a middle school, what else am I supposed to do while they work worksheets?
Okay, Okay I do still have shelves of "hardcovers for when the electronic apocalypse occurs".
But I have to say I have been fully assimilated into the e-book collective much more easily than I expected to be.
(only the true Star Trek nerds will get all my crazy Borg references)
Join us, resistance is futile.
Prevailing wisdom says you shouldn't take no for an answer.
Prevailing wisdom is dumb.
I wanted something to work out this weekend. It wasn't a bad something. It was, in my mind, a great something that would benefit many people, but mainly I felt it would benefit me.
Because it was a big something that effected many people, I sat still and silent that night and asked God was this His will. Silent and still I clearly heard in my heart the word, "No".
Just that. Not any explanation or vision of why.
I am one of those firm believers that He doesn't owe me any thing else but who among us doesn't long to know the "whole" story.
I was irritable. Despite knowing it was certainly for the best, I wanted what I wanted.
Confirmation came later that yes, indeed I had heard correctly and what I wanted would not apparently be happening.
I can honestly say two days later, I am at peace with it.
I am glad I took the time to sit quietly and listen.
What I heard made it easier to deal with what ultimately happened.
Take the time to sit, quiet, still, alone and ask.
Take the time quiet, still, alone to listen.
You will be thankful you did.
I spend a decent amount of time thinking about things.
A blessing and a curse.
I think about things I heard, things I read, things I said and things I wish I had not said.
Today I was thinking about the old adage "Be happy with what you have because you could be worse off, like (fill in the blank with a person in a bad situation- the person fighting cancer, the person in deep poverty, etc...).
I knew someone who really had a problem with that saying. They questioned why their pain had to compare or why pain was ranked. Good questions.
Which made me think and think and think about how we often say or think things like the this adage.
Then it struck me, the only way the old saying works for me is if instead of trying to put myself in the shoes of a person with a greater struggle, I put them into my shoes.
When I came back from a poverty stricken part of Mexico, I felt weird about how much stuff I had.
Then I tried to imagine how a poverty stricken mother who's children walked dirt floors, who had limited clean water and little medical care would feel if she were given my home and life.
I imagined how the color and texture of every item in my home might become a feast for her eyes. The feel of the cold floor, the fabric of the sofa, the taste of the food, the clothes, accessories, TV, etc... would be a million little thrills. Tiny moments of wonder over the fact that these were hers.
Suddenly I found myself seeing my home in that way. I felt like princess in a fairytale. I felt the wonder and awe of my plain little home reborn.
I thought today about what a mother with terminal cancer might feel to be placed down in my life. To find herself in a strong healthy body, with two beautiful children, a loving husband and no specter over her time with them.
I can imagine her touching their faces often, playing long slow games, smiling and laughing at all the ways they were special. Giving up molding the ideal relationships and all the pressure of that with her family simply because she is secure that she can be present.
I find myself feeling and thinking these things and I begin to relax.
It's about relishing your life.
That's what the old adage was trying to tell me, but I did not figure it out until today. It's not about rating pain or suffering, it's about how different perspectives can reveal what is hiding in plain sight.
I am a vicarious liver.
No not a major organ, but one who lives through the adventures of others.
Sure I like a little adventure every now and then but money, time and a desire not to be hurt limit what I will do.
Everest is not on my "to do" list.
I am an out of shape, occasional asthmatic, with a capillary condition that limits the flow of blood in my fingers and toes.
The odds are ever not in my favor for mountain climbing.
But, thanks to the advances in viewing technology, NetFlix, I can watch season after season of a cast of characters attempt to summit the great mountain.
Meet Everest- Beyond the Limit
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Everest:_Beyond_the_Limit
I was hooked at the first show.
My addiction: the Sherpas.
These guys are nothing short of super human.
Now don't get me wrong for a sea level living non- Tibetan, non-Nepalese to summit Everest it's amazing. They beat the odds. They literally walk over dead bodies to get there.
The people who are born and raised a the foot of Everest have natural abilities the rest of us do not have.
Their bodies process oxygen many times better, they have more red blood cells, compact strong bodies and more mountain instinct. They carry loads much heavier than any other climbers.
I mean above 27,000 feet it's called the Dead zone and no human has ever survived there more than 5 days. Most have to be on oxygen tanks the entire time, even the Sherpas. The peak of Everest is around 28,000 feet or the cruising height of a commercial jet.
The Sherpa who amazes me the most is Phurba Tashi.
This guy is at the limit of what human beings can do.
He has summitted Everest 19 times. 19 times. One other Sherpa has made it 21 times, but I think he may be older than Phurba. Once he single handedly carried an injured climber (the guy was a 120lb double amputee who summitted Everest) across a long section of rocky terrain on his back. This happened after he had sumitted Everest on the way down.
The man who runs the expeditions, Russell Bice, featured on the show clearly loves the Sherpas and cares for them. Through their work with him they have financial opportunities they would never have otherwise.
But every time they call him "Big Boss" I have to cringe a bit.
I respect Bice because he appears to run the safest and most carefully planned operation on Everest. During Summit season it can become something of a free for all with hundreds of people (many of whom should not be there) trekking up the peak.
The Story that most caught my attention was that of Phurba and David Tait.
Davit Tait is a child abuse survivor from England who had already summitted Everest but came back to set a world record. He wanted to summit from the north then go down the south, then after a few days rest return for a double summit. It had never been done.
He and Phurba quickly summit from the north but then more slowly make it down the south because no one had come up from the south yet that year and they had to lay their own safety lines.
Once at the southern base camp David stops the attempt. When asked why he replies because the record would not truly be his, Phurba would basically have to step aside and let David summit the second time because Phurba was leading the way all the time.
David said it was just to obvious Phurba was superior to him in every area of mountain climbing.
Wow.
How easy would it have been for David to let Phurba guide him up and take the world record and all the fame? I was blown away by David's honestly and respect for Phurba.
I cannot help but see the Life lesson there. Who of us knows our own pride enough to see when we are standing on the shoulders of others?
It's not wrong to need help to accomplish a goal, but it is wrong to be blind to that fact.
Who are the unsung Phurba's in our lives? Those who have greatness in them but humbly serve others without bitterness or envy. Those who love and respect people who from time to time take them for granted.
I want to be open to see people like Phurba around me and to see myself in a more accurate light.
With Hay fever and daylight savings making getting out of bed a struggle, Spring may not be delighting your heart right about now.
I have 5 tips that help me Spring into Spring:
1. Forget Spring cleaning, do Spring cooking. Make a Strawberry parfait. This can be done as a whole cake or in dessert cups.
Layer crushed vanilla cake, crushed sugared strawberries, vanilla pudding, cool whip and crushed pecans if you choose. Refrigerate for one hour, if you can stand to wait :). This is based off of my Grandmother's world famous Strawberry punch bowl cake.
2. Dye Easter eggs. This is a win, win for me because I love deviled eggs, egg salad and plain boiled eggs. Nothing brings out your young heart like planning and creating Easter egg designs.
3. Buy or grow spring flowers. Outside a window or in a vase they remind you that life can be so beautiful. It's okay to buy an inexpensive pot of spring flowers knowing they will not live into the summer. Wild flowers are no less beautiful because they do not last and neither are cultivated flowers. When they die just compost the plant and use the dirt for a summer plant. Must do rule- No harsh judgements on your lack of greenish tint to your thumb, it kills the joy.
4. Take a child to the park. No kids, invite a friend with kids. Sit in a swing, climb, jump, laugh. Chase down an ice cream truck. Get dirty and be messy. I suspect those two ingredients are why kids laugh and smile more than adults.
5. Dress up and go to church. Bear with me now. You may hate dressing up but if you don't give yourself a reason to go the extra mile (haircut, nails tamed, ironed clothes, etc...) in the daytime hours, when will you ever do it? Why church? Why not? When you were a kid you might have hated a certain food that as an adult you can really appreciate. Giving something a second or first chance when you are in a different space in your life is a smart thing to do. Keep a fresh perspective, like Spring.
I heard Chris Tomlin talking on K-love (christian radio station) today and he was discussing the story of Elijah and his servant. It's the source for his new song "Whom shall I fear".
The story takes place in 2 Kings 6:8-22
Take a minute to read it.
It is a very clear picture of how times often look grim at every angle.
An army is gathered around you, destruction is imminent. Fear grips your heart like a vise.
Maybe for you it's relationship issues, financial troubles, parenting woes, or just a general dismay at how sad and evil our culture has become.
Bad, Bad, Bad at every angle. No silver lining. No upside.
But Elisha was filled, I mean FILLED, with the Holy Spirit and he got it.
He got it.
So when his servant came to him and said "Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?” , the army has us surrounded.
Elisha says “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”
Elisha asked God to open his eyes.
The servant instantly sees.
Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.
If you call yourself by the name "believer" do you believe?
Do you understand that only 1/3 of the angels were cast down as Demons and ...
2/3 still faithfully serve the Lord on our behalf.
How much do you think 2/3 of all the angels in heaven are?
I am guessing many.
Faithful believer the armies of the Lord are around his people working to honor their faith. Yes, it's not likely that we will avoid earthly death but as long as God has a mission for you here on the Earth, He will provide for your protection.
