Moriah & the Lilacs {A New Twist}

Earlier today, when someone gently nudged me to consider blogging again, I pushed the idea aside.  I don't have time to blog!

But tonight, as I sit here in a quieted-down house, a thought pushes its way into my mind and refuses to be ignored...

Maybe I could.

Maybe I could blog again.  Maybe, just once in a while, I could make time for this.  Maybe, every so often, I could find enough mental energy at the end of the day to jot down a few thoughts, rather than  reading or mindlessly scrolling through Facebook or collapsing in sleep.  Maybe I could set aside the tasks that surround me and scream "URGENT," and instead remember the value of recording life in this way.  Maybe...

So tonight, I will...with no firm promise about when this feat shall be repeated!  :)

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Ever since the spring of 2012, when Moriah was born, bringing the spectacular beauty of daughterhood into our home, lilacs have held special meaning for me, far beyond their loveliness and fragrance.  Here is the beginning of that tale.

The spring of 2018 was different.  For the first time since Moriah's birth (and many years before that), we didn't live in the house with the lilac bushes behind it.  True, we were great friends with our former neighbors, the current owners of the house; but we no longer lived there, and I didn't want to intrude in any way on the owners or the new renters that had moved into my childhood home.  But my heart ached a little at the abrupt ending of the cherished tradition of going with Moriah to cut bouquets of lilacs every spring (an example is here).  "Should I ask them if I could still take pictures of Moriah beside the lilac bushes?" I wondered, but never inquired, convincing myself that perhaps it was best to let the tradition slip away.  Since so much in life had changed because of our move to northern Virginia, was it necessary to hang onto that bit of sameness?  But I felt a tinge of sadness, even as my pragmatic side called out, "Let it go!"

And then, one Monday evening, during a visit to the Shanks, the wonderful family we had lived beside for over a dozen years, they offered to give us a bouquet of those lilacs.  My heart leaped!  This could be a way to preserve the tradition!

We brought those glorious blooms back to Annandale, and the next day, Moriah wore a purple dress and stood in our front yard, holding the bouquet in the vase we always used for lilacs.  No, she wasn't standing on the soil where the lilacs grew, but it's okay for flowers to be carried to new places.

It's okay for that to happen to people, too.

Sometimes when we're carried along like that, we get to bring with us pieces of the old days.

At times like this, that is a gift that gladdens the soul and brightens the heart--a sweet reminder of the tender love of God, who knows all and sees all.

Even the longings of our heart.

Even when we haven't even whispered them to anyone else.

Giving Honor to Whom Honor Is Due

A little over seven years ago, my dad, at the young age of 70, officially retired from his medical practice and looked ahead to the future.  I'm sure he had no idea whatsoever how big a role in his retirement a nearby clinic would play.

The clinic is called Heartland, and it serves the needs of various groups in our Old Order and conservative Mennonite community--some of whom were Dad's patients through the years, and some of whom were his dad's patients once upon a time!  :)  Ever since Dad retired, he has played a back-up role at the clinic, helping out by giving advice or by filling in when the other personnel were away.  And for quite a few months, he actually helped the clinic stay open when the PA who was working there moved on and left a gap that took the board a little while to fill.  

Dad has loved the clinic, and I do believe it's accurate to say he is well-loved by the clinic.  :)

A few weeks ago, the board and other personnel of the clinic held a short ceremony and a reception to honor Dad; and we were delighted to be at that.

Benjamin, of course, was delighted to find something with wheels to play with while we were waiting for the ceremony to start!  :)

Someone from the clinic told me that they had thought about opening it up to all the patients of the clinic, but knew there was no way they could handle such a large crowd...and indeed, I'm sure that's very true.

The crowd that was there, however, (maybe half of whom are pictured above) gave a vivid glimpse of how much appreciation there is in the community for Dad's assistance through the years.

There was a time of sharing, and it was touching to hear the words of gratitude flow from the lips of those gathered.

The lady below, standing beside Dad, is Donna, the office manager and, I believe, the chief organizer of the event.  From my interactions with her, I can attest to the fact that she is a jewel with a heart of joyful caring.

As the talking went on, Benjamin got a little restless and preferred to march up and down the hill to explore new territory.  I had passed the camera off to Josiah, so he got a lot of these shots, including these great ones of his littlest brother.  :)

As a continuing memorial to their gratitude, the people of the clinic had planted a tree in honor of Dad--an October Glory maple, which is the same variety as two of the ones we have here by our driveway. In addition, a sign was made to stand at the base of the tree.

The stand for this sign was made by an Old Order buggy-maker who lives very close to the clinic.  It's hard to see the detail in this photo, but the stand itself is a work of art.  Incidentally, Moriah took a special liking to this stand-maker, and an enduring image I have in my head (but not in a photo, out of respect for the practices of Old Orders in regards to photography) is Moriah perched on a bench beside this older gentleman at the end of the evening.  She was growing tired, but was content to be there with him, chattering away about this or that; and he was so kind to listen to and talk with her.  :)

At some point, Tobin passed his cowboy hat off to Benjamin.  :)

Benjamin and David have such a sweet relationship.

It was great to have Dad's brother Rufus (they don't look anything alike, do they?)  ;-)  and his wife Elaine there. 

It is always a treat to spend time with them...

...and they always bring a jovial mood along with them.  :)

Two weeks after the ceremony, the kids and I drove up to the clinic and took a look at "Grandpa's tree." Sure enough, the leaves had changed colors; and although the leaves in this area have been dull across the board this year, it gave us a glimpse of the glory that awaits in coming years.  :)

You know, it's one thing to know and respect and love someone deeply.  It's another thing to see that admiration and affection being given to them by others who know them.  What a heart-warming evening this was!  What a treasure to see Dad be honored in this way!  What gratitude fills my heart as I think about the kindnesses that have been shown to Dad at the clinic since the fall of 2010!

Sometimes it sounds like Dad might want to retire again  ;-)  -- to stop being the fill-in doctor at the clinic.  But it doesn't take long until he's saying again, "I think I'll drop by the clinic today and see how things are going..." :)

What a special place...and a special man...and a very special evening!!  :)

The Grape Harvest (with a New Helper)

While we were away on vacation, we wondered a little about what was happening to our grapes: were they ripening too fast? were any critters bothering them? would there be any left when we got home so we could harvest them?  Ever since the year our grapes disappeared, we've been on pins and needles until the grape harvest is completed, since now we know firsthand the truth of the saying, "Don't count your chickens before they hatch," as it applies to grapes!

We were relieved to discover, when we returned home, that our grapes were just fine; and I knew that one of the first tasks of that settling-in week would be harvesting and preserving the grapes.  Monday morning--Labor Day--we began.

For the first time this year...

 ...we had a new helper.

 He just happened to come along right when we needed assistance...

 ...and his efforts made the beginning of the project speed along.

And who is the mystery man?

 Kevin, the Painter!  He laid down his brush and picked up some scissors and, accompanied by his faithful sidekick Tobin, took the first shift of grape-picking.  Many hands make light work, and we were grateful for the unexpected help!

With those grapes, we made enough filling for 23 pies; and it was a delight to pop the containers of prepared grapes into the freezer, knowing how good it will taste in the future when we make those pies!

There were still more grapes on the vine, but I needed to be gone some on Tuesday morning, so I gave instructions to the four oldest boys to pick what they could.  Remembering the general grumpiness that had accompanied the picking last year, I wasn't at all sure how it would go, but was thrilled when I got home and discovered that they had had a great time together.  They got a lot done, they had fun doing it, and my heart rejoiced.

 Benjamin was crazy about these grapes; and in the days leading up to this harvest, every time he was outside, he would head towards the grapevine and wait for someone to pick some and give them to him.  He ate so many of them!

Content with grapes for 23 pies, I decided to use the grapes the boys picked on this day to make juice, so by the end of the day, I had nine half-gallons of good, sweet juice canned and ready for the cellar.

There were still a few clusters of grapes left on the vine, but they were high and hard to reach.  I intended for either Josiah or I to climb up and try to get them the next day, but as it turned out, it was a rainy day and not suitable for climbing around on ladders.  And then after that, my attention turned to other things, so I never did get back to that task--an inadvertent following of Deuteronomy 24:21 perhaps!  ;-)