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.

Our Neighbors' Big Summer Project

One of the extra-fun things we did this past summer was spying on our neighbors.  :)

Oh, they knew we were doing it.  In fact, they welcomed it!  You see, they were having a new barn put up-and even more exciting, their old one torn down--and they knew how interesting it would be for the folks (especially the little ones) from my side of the lane to watch the process.  :)

Many mornings, we would be halfway listening for the sound of heavy equipment; and if we heard trucks or tractors or saws or anything of the sort, our ears would perk up, and we would head across the yard to see what was going on.  As a result, we got to watch a tall tree being cut/knocked down (and the kids got to climb all over that downed tree before it was cut up and hauled off), a small garage building being knocked down, holes being dug, huge dirt piles being moved (and of course, the boys loved to climb on those), cement being poured, rafters being raised, old beams being taken down, and so much more.

We sure do appreciate all the free entertainment the neighbors provided for us during the summer of 2015!  :)

Because they are Old Order Mennonite and resist most modern technology, I refrained from taking pictures...well, until one certain day when the old barn was being knocked down and I happened to peek through our pine trees and see this beautiful scene.  :)

 A snap or two of the camera wouldn't hurt, right?  :)

 I didn't plan to ever share those pictures (or even, truth be told, reveal that I had taken them).  ;-)  But when Douglas, our neighbor, mentioned to me that he would really be glad if I could take some pictures of the new and old barns, I had to laugh.  Of course I'd be more than happy to do that for him.  :)

Here is the new barn, with adequate room for their three horses, their buggies, their bikes, plenty of hay, a wonderful room for doing messy work like preparing corn for freezing and butchering a deer (like we did together this past week), and other storage...

 ...and next to it, the remains of the old barn.

 And when I say "old barn," I mean REALLY old barn.  I don't think I'm wrong when I say it was well over 100 years old.

 We were fascinated by the skill of this machine operator...

 ...as he used the big claw to pick up individual boards and place them where he wanted them.

 Moriah, not surprisingly, lost interest in watching the machinery before we did, so she got to run and play and jump on the trampoline with another Mennonite girl from the neighborhood.

 Meanwhile, Tobin played in the dirt.  :)

 And we watched...

You might be wondering why, if I have so many more important things to blog about, I chose to, on this chilly November Sunday evening, blog about my neighbor's barns.  Well, here's the reason.  I suddenly remembered tonight that I told my neighbor that I would get those pictures printed out for him; and wouldn't you know, I had forgotten and never got around to it.  When I remembered tonight, I was inspired to go ahead and do it; and since I was uploading those pictures to a photo site to get them developed, I decided to put them on the blog, too!

Besides, even though it might not be as important as Benjamin's two-month "birthday" or Tobin's new reading ability, watching the one barn go up and the other go down was a unique, big part of this past summer; and it's definitely worth recording here and recalling in the future.

And if that's not a good enough reason, here's another one: looking at these pictures from hot August makes me feel a tiny bit warmer on this cold night.  :)

This by the Door...

...can only mean one thing:  Jason is here.

And who is Jason?  Why, he's the little five-year-old son of our next-door neighbors.  Yes, the Old Order Mennonite ones.  He was born a month before Shav; and within the last year or two, he and Tobin have become particularly close, and Shav usually--but not always--tags along on their adventures, too.

Out of respect for the Old Order beliefs, I never rarely take pictures of Jason (well, OK, I snapped a couple photos of him on Easter, but it was from far away, and you can hardly tell it's him in that trio of little boys ;-) -- those photos are pretty far down in that Easter post, just after the ones of Jeff and the boys burning brush in our garden).  But a couple days ago, when I spotted his boots with its traditional Old Order hat perched on top by our front door, I decided that would be a good way to commemorate these years when either Jason or my boys cross the lane (Buggy Boulevard, my dad calls it) virtually every day to visit each other and have all sorts of fun together.

Josiah confessed to me the other day that he wonders what kind of effect Tobin and Shav will have on Jason as they grow up, and he hopes the Fisher boys won't pull Jason away from the Old Order church but fears they might.  In return, I confessed to him that I had had those exact thoughts when he and David were the little Fisher boys who often played with Jason's big sisters!

So far, neither they nor us have converted to the other's style of worship; but during the nearly 10 years we've lived beside each other, our respect for and appreciation of each other has only continued to grow.  May it ever be so!

And may there be many more times when that cute little hat, worn by that cute little blonde-headed boy, appears at my front door!

Thoughts after a Sunday Evening Singing

At least a few members of the Fisher family have decided that we should become Old Order Mennonite.  You see, our next-door neighbors held a "singing" tonight for the young people of their Old Order Mennonite church (the young people's group has 60+ people in it); and the boys were so impressed by it (at least, by the glimpses of it that we saw across the lawn--not that we were peeking or anything)  that they thought we might do well to become them. 

It really was quite a sight to see--and hear. I felt like I had stepped back in time, maybe to the days of Almanzo Wilder and Laura Ingalls as they drove across the prairie in a buggy to singing school. These are some of the things that stood out to me about this evening...

~ seeing a row of buggies tied to the hitching rack by our neighbor's machine shop,
~ watching the young ladies cluster together in their pretty dresses,
~ watching the young men stride energetically down the hill toward the house,
~ hearing loud bursts of laughter occasionally ring out from across the lane,
~ sitting on our swing with all my children around me, with a pint of frozen blueberries to have as a snack as we listened to the singing begin,
~ watching Jeff and Jed run across the lawn together,
~ seeing the young people pour forth from the house after the first hour of singing was over (they sing for an hour, then have a break for half an hour, then sing for another hour),
~ going back outside after my kids were in bed so I could hear the music again,
~ feeling my heart soar as I heard songs like "Love Lifted Me" and "Send the Light" and "In the Sweet By and By" roll through the night air in rich harmony,
~ going inside to see if anyone was still awake and wanted to come outside with me--David was, and he was glad to get up and come with me,
~ sitting down on the front porch steps with one of my treasured sons,
~ talking to him in whispers so we could still hear the glorious music,
~ smiling to myself as I heard the Old Order accent come through loud and clear in their singing. 
~ seeing various groups of people coming and going through the back door of my neighbor, illuminated by an outdoor light above their picnic table,
~ watching an amazing display of lightning in the distance, some of which was blurred by clouds but some of which we could see clearly,
~ noticing that the sky to the north was covered with clouds, but directly overhead there was nothing obscuring the stars, and they shone beautifully,
~ looking around our neighborhood, seeing lights in the windows of the various houses, and thanking God for the joy of living right here in this spot,
~ giving David a big hug, then sending him back inside to go to bed,
~ hearing horses in the darkness,
~ watching the red lights of buggies begin to make their way toward their respective homes,
~ noticing the beauty of the weeds (yes, weeds) that grow profusely in our front flowerbed as the light from our floodlight shone on their wispy blossoms, especially when the wind picked up in intensity (we were under a tornado watch, after all) and the blossoms floated through the air,
~ seeing a bat swoop down, hopefully to consume a pesky bug (or two or a thousand) ,
~ looking across the yard to see a line of young men and a line of young women, and imagining the conversations and thoughts that might be taking place as they (some of them) pair up for the ride home (ah, young love!) ,
~ looking up to see that enough clouds had rolled in to obliterate all the stars I could see a short while before,
~ peeking out our window at 12:15 a.m. and seeing some people still standing around my neighbor's back door! 

I know it's a lot of work to host a singing like this, and we've watched our neighbors be extra busy during this past week of preparation and have enjoyed hearing about all the steps of getting ready. I wouldn't want Douglas and Wilma to feel any pressure to host another one anytime soon, but at the same time...

...I CAN HARDLY WAIT UNTIL THEY DO IT AGAIN!! 

Middle-of-November Happenings

Every time Grandma Fisher comes for a visit, we get together with our Old Order Mennonite neighbors for dinner because they love to visit with Jeff's mom and she loves to visit with them!  We often host it here at our house, but tonight they had us over to their house and stuffed us with a scrumptious feast of breakfast-for-dinner foods: waffles (made from scratch and cooked in a cast iron press on their stove), syrup, strawberries & whipped cream, bacon, sausages, hash browns, grits (I LOVE grits, but rarely make them...note to self: make grits more often), gravy, fresh fruit salad, cottage cheese, rice krispie treats.  I wish I had two stomachs so I could have eaten twice as much; it was that good.  :)  Then we played Pictionary, and Douglas's version of "roommate" and Rosalie's rendition of "outhouse" stand out in my mind as being particularly humorous.  Good times!

Although we respect their beliefs and so do not take pictures of them, Jeff did sneak a picture of the table when we got there.  This was before most of the food was placed on it.  Their table, specially made by Wilma's father, extends through two rooms of the house when they stretch it out for company.

After we walked back home through the crisp fall air and got the kids in bed, I nearly succumbed to my introvert temptation to hit the couch with a book and then fall asleep; but eventually I rallied enough to pull some pictures together for this post.  These days are so precious, and they're going by so fast, and if I don't push myself sometimes to record them in this way, they'll be gone before I can capture a piece of them.  Here then are some recent moments of real life in our home.

It's special for Moriah to have two grandmas here to love on her!  :)

David is a great cuddler, and Grandma Fisher's lap is a good place for that even though he is a big eight-year-old now.  You're never too old to cuddle.  :)

If you were to peek into our kitchen most mornings, you would find Grandma Fisher at the table, playing a game with some of her grandsons.

One of the things the boys most look forward to when she comes is the hours she spends playing with them: Uno, Skip-Bo, Phase 10, Scrabble Slam, and many other games.

Moriah got to play with marbles for the first time!

I know, I know: they're a HUGE choking hazard.  But she's well past the stage of popping everything into her mouth, and I was supervising her while she was playing with them, and she didn't choke.  :)

She did, however, have a blast with them; and it was fun to see her and Shav and Tobin having so much fun together.  :)

They also played with these magnetic bars and balls, and Shav asked me to take a picture of what he built.

And so did Tobin.  :)

In Jeff's family, his mom was the one to teach the kids how to play chess.  She had the patience to instruct them in how each piece moves, etc.  But once they started getting good at the game, Jeff's dad would play with them and help them to really develop their strategy.

History repeated itself as Grandma Fisher patiently played chess with Tobin and Shav a few days ago.

Tobin already knew how the pieces move but needs to work on thinking ahead and figuring out what his opponent can do and planning based on that.  Shav still needs practice on the basics.  You know, playing chess with them is one of those things I could do, but never seem to find/make the time for.  I'm so grateful for a patient Grandma who spends her time investing in her grandchildren in this way!

How beautiful to me are these hands: old and young!