Saturday, February 27, 2016

A Candle in the Window, or finding our way home

I was coming around the main desk at the library one day last week and discovered a young man-child about the age of four heading out the front door, crying inconsolably. Just as he was heading out the door, he looked up at me and made eye contact. He stopped and just stood there, looking at me and crying.

"Hey, now, what's this, young mister?" I stooped down and asked him.

"I can't find my mommy," he wailed and cried even harder.

"Well, you come with me and we'll go find her," I reassured him, and held out my hand to see if he wanted to hold it. Nope. He wasn't having any of that.

I started walking down the hallway and he followed me. I kept talking to him and asking him simple questions to try and find out where he was when he last saw his mom. He cried the entire way down the hallway and up the short set of stairs leading to the Internet computers, which is where most adults end up while their children play in the children's department.

I looked around and saw two people - an old man and a young lady of a different nationality than the man-child. But I didn't want to make any assumptions so I said, "I don't see mommy here. Can you look and see if you can find her?"

The man-child glanced around, saw the same two people I did and looked at me like, you idiot, those two aren't my mother. So we turned around, walked back down the hallway and headed upstairs to the  children's area with him crying and wailing the entire way.

As we started up the stairs, his momma heard him crying and met us at the top of the staircase.

"I'm right here, sweetheart!" she said. As soon as he caught sight of her, he raced up the rest of the stairs and threw himself into her arms. He hugged his momma tightly and then reared back, wound up an arm, and hauled off and hit her across the legs.

"WHERE WERE YOU??" he cried, flailing at her and crying even harder. She talked to him softly, hugging him as best she could while he spent himself out. She mouthed her gratitude to me and I left them to their reconciliation.


The entire drive home I thought about this incident. And I thought this is the way we treat God when we wander away from Him. We look for Him in all the wrong places and flail about, frustrated and angry and scared. When we finally do find Him, we discover it wasn't Him that moved but us. And then we get mad at Him for it. Oh, how wrong we are. He's been right there, waiting for us to come back to Him.

Thank you, man-child, for opening my eyes.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

It's All About Me, Not!

Today was my day to get beautified. 

And taxified. But that's not a fun story so I'm not telling that one.
My colorist, who happens to be my good friend T, works at a shop on a main road leading into town. The shop has gorgeous windows looking out to the road and while she works on my hair we look out at the weather, or traffic, or emergency vehicles and feel like Mrs. Kravitz spying on the neighbors.
T was about half way through applying my color and a big, long 18-wheeler pulled up outside the shop and stopped, completely blocking the driveway.

Two men got out and went to the front of the truck, lifted the hood, and started looking around. 


They've blocked us all in. I can't be blocked in. I have to leave soon. I have an appointment with our accountant to give him our tax papers.

I fretted about it for a little bit, wondering how long they were going to be stuck there. The other women in the shop kept speculating that I might be trapped for a long while, since the hood was still up and the men were deeply embedded into the engine looking around and tapping things.

After thinking about it for a few more minutes, I jumped out of the chair and told T I was going out to find out how long they were going to be there.

She laughed as I flew out the door.
I walked down to the road and over to the {very} big engine area. The two men looked up. Their eyes got wide.

"Are you going to be here long?" I asked. 

"Just a few minutes, ma'am," they said, just staring at me.

"Okay, then," I said, as I turned around and walked back toward the shop.
T was still laughing when I got back inside. And then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Oh, boy.

Color half applied means my hair was sticking up ALL OVER THE PLACE. Foamy goo applied liberally. T had just waxed my eyebrows so my forehead was red and irritated, tiny pieces of wax still stuck to my eyebrow area. And I'm wearing a vinyl black poncho.

Good golly.

No wonder the two men left so quickly.


I made it to my tax appointment on time.

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Snow Day Musings

A few scenes from the storm last week. 

Heavy, wet snow. J, K, and I cleared the driveway before the Man got home from work. He was a happy fellow. We were a tired family.


The snow fell all day long, slowing down about two in the afternoon. 

"Let's go clear the driveway, guys!" I said, looking out the window and seeing only a few flakes fall helter skelter to the ground. "This is going to take a while since it's going to be heavy."

"No, it's not," said J and K in unison. "It's light and fluffy. It won't take long to shovel. We'll go out later," they said, not even looking up from their electronic devices.

"No. It's going to be heavy. Look at the temperature. It's fairly warm so there's a lot of moisture in the air which means heavy, wet snow. Out, now!" I may have said a bit firmly.

Grumbling, they got ready to go outside. I got out there first and started shoveling. Heavy, wet snow. Just as I had suspected. J got the snowblower going. But not before he broke the pull cord. Gulp. Don't let that snowblower stop running or we're shoveling the whole driveway by hand, J.

I know, he said. And he kept it going.

K finally came out and took her first shovelful. 

This is really heavy, she said, grimacing at me. I might have said, I told you so

When are they going to listen to their momma?

Monday, February 15, 2016

Winter Blues

Normally this time of winter the doldrums have set in. 

But not this year.

Milder than usual temperatures, coupled with very little snow, has made for a doldrum-free winter. And since we're halfway through February, I'm feeling kind of perky. 


K and Sissy and I took a trip north this weekend to a {rather} large knitting shop. We wandered around with our project sheets for a couple hours, matching yarns and patterns and needle sizes and feels. It has to feel right or it won't get worn.

I came out with yarn for two projects, K gathered enough for three projects and Sissy found some yarn to start an outrageously colorful afghan. A very successful trip.

Right now, K is sitting on the couch working on a knitted skirt for herself and I'm working on a cabled and ribbed poncho for me. The guys are in bed and we're watching the "X-Files". We knit happily along until the scary parts and then we jump and lose some stitches. 

Gah. It's hard to multi-task.