Granting Permission to Fly

Saturday March 19, 2016  2:15 AM

At the cafe! With Amy!!!

Tiredness is seeping in but I don't let it claim me, not yet. I'm trying to stay awake for a little while longer.  Not like "it's night shift and I have to stay awake" but because somewhere in the world it is not 2:15 AM, but 1:15 PM and there are sisters enjoying iced coffee together in a cafe in Bangkok, Thailand.

These sisters are separated by 2 years and 4 months. One trends towards being shorter and is brunette with chocolate brown eyes. The other is inches taller with blond hair and blue eyes. They are different but still peas in a pod.

A sister relationship is simple and complex. They can be completely irritated at each other one minute and the next they are borrowing each other's clothes again. They can be best friends or they can just barely tolerate each other. Sisters. Simple. Complex.


These two girls of mine have been buddies pretty much since Day 1 after Heather was born. Not that they didn't have typical moments of misunderstanding and much shouting, but for the most part, they got along. Maybe it was their ages and spacing. Maybe it was their temperaments. I don't know really, but I am thankful that they get along with each other so well and aren't just sisters, but friends.

Call me crazy, but it was this relationship that gave me the push to let Heather fly to Thailand to visit Amy who has been there since December and won't return home until later in May. Heather has never flown. Ever. And I am not exactly a world traveler comfortable with all things international. She was going to fly with another couple that we knew and when plans changed last minute, I was in a quandary. Do we let Heather go across the world alone? Or do we break her heart which had much anticipated this journey, not just to see another city in another country, but to see her much-loved, much-missed sister?

At first, I was leaning towards breaking her heart. I mean, she had NEVER flown. I couldn't even remember if she'd ever seen an airport (except in movies). Then God stepped in when I kinda wasn't expecting it and He gave me such a peace about her going ahead with the plan, even if the plan was altered, and I know this peace was from Him because it really did bypass all logical understanding and reasoning. At least, my kind of understanding and reasoning.

God sent Mr. Lais to us that evening and he coached Heather (and us) through airport procedure and then he prayed with us. And the peace grew in my heart. She'd be okay. We could do this. She could do this.

Thursday March 17, 7:20 AM: Heading to the airport. 

Same day at about 7:10 AM: yes, she looks extremely nervous. And she missed the sunrise. 

Still Thursday...9:43 AM: Still, not very nervous as we enter the airport. Except for the moment of her parents freaking out in the parking garage because we didn't know if it was the right parking garage and if we were even in the right place. Even then, it was her parents freaking, not her. 

Thursday morning continues....9:57 AM. Calm, cool, classy. That's my girl.  

Me? Not so much. But I tried. And cried. Just a little. After she left. But that's cool. 

11:51 AM: They just called to start boarding her flight. This was the only time I thought she looked even a little nervous. I'm just glad I didn't break out in an echoing nervous peal of laughter. I've been known to do that. She was glad too. 

11:53 AM: Can you see her? In the middle of the line? Still looking fine! We were even on time! 

(If you know me, you know how impressive that last part is.) 

12:03 PM: And then she boarded the plane and I had no choice but to turn away and head back alone to where Leo was waiting. I was thankful that I had a pass to go with her to the gate; it made it easier when the time came to see her off. Kinda. I still cried. But it wasn't sad tears really. They were a mix of happy and proud and nostalgic and "when did my baby girl grow up" tears. 

Friday March 18 1:26PM my time (and something like Saturday morning 12:30 AM Thailand time): This picture came across my Facebook messages. I cried again. 

I think the happy thing they had going on way back in the summer of 2000 is still going on today. What do you think? And they are still just as cute as ever.

Sunday March 20 5:14 PM: I'm thinking of my girls. I'm missing all of them today; Adrienne up around Pittsburgh, Amy and Heather in Thailand, but I have peace. So very thankful for that today, at this time. Girls, you have been granted permission to fly.

Love,

Dianne

Beyond a Shadow of A Doubt

Growing up, you just know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Grandmas don't ever think bad thoughts, they are never tempted, and that they are perpetually cheerful. Grandmas wear their hair up in buns and their teeth can be put in a cup to soak at night. Grandmas make oatmeal, wear sensible shoes and never wear anything but a dress or a blouse with a skirt. Gardening comes naturally to grandmas and petunias tend to flourish on the front porch. And don't all grandmas do aerobic exercise to Christian praise music? And I think a "grandma prerequisite" is to have store bought duplex cookies that often find their way into barrel-shaped cookie jars. And somehow, this cookie jar can't ever be snuck into without her hearing.

At least, that's how it always was with my Grandma. Or so I thought.

Sometime ago,  I had the privilege and joy of being able to  help my aunts with caring for some of Grandma's needs; things to make her life a little easier and to allow her be at home for as long as she was able to. Now, I am not one to just stop in and visit. I find the conversation somehow awkward and I tend to avoid it altogether. But to pop in and help her get dressed, comb her hair, make some coffee and a "Grandma Special" (One scrambled egg with buttered/horse-radished toast, 3 slices of bacon, cranberry juice and coffee with 2 or 3 cookies)? That, I could do. And somehow, conversation was easy.

As I combed her very silvery white hair that has this one section that always tangled, we discussed my children and then we discussed her children as youngsters and the tangles they might have gotten into. I gained wisdom about discipline and that yes, my dad is indeed a little ornery.

As I cooked breakfast, we talked about my career as a nurse and she never discouraged me, but believed in me. We talked about old dishes, childhood memories (both hers and mine), shiny green dresses, cows, farming, and husbands.

As she ate breakfast and I wrote in the "communication notebook", she listened as I shared frustrations, joys, fears, and hopes. We shared life, a lot of life. I appreciate how she always listened to me, let me unload whatever I was carrying, and just listened. Then she would talk, and I'd listen, and I didn't care if I'd already heard the same story before because I loved hearing her tell it.

I learned that my grandma, who I'd always imagined and saw as calm and serene with a hymn playing in her head all the time, was actually quite spunky and vivacious (and yes, she probably did have a hymn playing in her head, or maybe a Lawrence Welk Polka tune)! I was starting to see that she had  had a lifetime of learning to tame her tongue, work on her attitude, and extend a lot of grace! This petite woman had some snap, crackle and pop and I began to see how much alike we were. Oh, I had a lot to learn from her about all of the fruits of the Spirit. She had learned how to cultivate love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. I knew she was a good gardener, but I had no idea!

Looking back, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Grandma was every bit as human as anyone. She struggled with life sometimes, but she also learned to lean on her God who sustained her. That is what I learned from her. I also learned that it is very okay to have some "snap, crackle and pop" but I also need to not to let it take over my every emotion but instead, to work on harvesting the fruit.

Looking ahead, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will see Grandma in Heaven when I
get there too. She slipped over to the other side yesterday afternoon. One more breath on this side and then she was in eternity. Just like that. It was what she had waited for her whole life and I am sure the Homecoming was sweet.

Grandma, when I'd leave the house, I'd say, "See ya later; I'll lock the door on my way out." This time though I'll leave with just this, "I'll see you and Grandpa later. Thank you for showing me the way."

Love,
Dianne

Following the Shepherd into 2016

The first day of 2016 makes me reflect back on 2015. It's hard to sum up in a few paragraphs what the past 365 days held and I am not even going to try to capture the highs and lows in great detail. For me, it is more of a journal entry so I can look back in 2017, 2027 and maybe even 2067 and remember a little of 2015.  I didn't do Christmas cards this year or a Christmas letter and my blogging all year has been hit-and-miss so if I don't sum it up now, the memories will dim, fade and curl up at the edges.

Last January 1st, my oldest girl was getting ready to jump into her last semester at college, my son and his wife were continuing to settle into married life and my middle girl was soon to be headed back to Ohio for Winter term at Rosedale Bible College. My baby girl was anticipating getting her driver's license and my baby boy was just starting his first musical theatre workshop class. I was working for a home-based pediatric nursing agency along with another home-based nursing job on the side. Leo was working on building the beef herd while still working at Pillar Innovations.

Then I think life sped up. Like in a movie where everything was going along at a regular pace and then someone hits the fast-forward button and in the jerky movements accompanied by high-pitched squeaky voices we find ourselves in another year. 

I have a new job and instead of working in other people's homes, I am blessed to be able to work in my local community, primarily out of my home. Leo had eight baby calves this past week and our herd has grown in leaps and bounds in 365 days. When I think back to the time, about 10 years ago, that he brought home four beef calves, I never dreamt they would grow to a herd like I see out my window today. 

My kids? Adrienne is loading her car this evening and she moves tomorrow to a new city, a new job and I couldn't be more proud. This girl has worked so hard! I kind of wish I was in preschool and she could read me a story. 

Taken by Higher Focus Studios

Aaron and Lisa-Anna celebrated two years of marriage this past September and I think they still have the newlywed thing going on. I love their thoughtfulness about the future and their intentional planning as they keep God in the center of what their future holds. 

Amy is on the other side of the world. Literally. She's already celebrated New Year's Day and is on January 2nd. She survived Rosedale and came home vibrant and alive for God! She worked hard all summer and in August left for Columbus for a few months of intense training  before flying over the North Pole to Thailand. I am very thankful for social media as it allows us to keep connected. If you see a brightness coming from that part of the world, it may just be her shining her light and not hiding it under a bushel. 

Heather turned 16 and did not pass her driver's permit test the first time. To have to be the one to take her and then have that horribly sad drive home was definitely not on my parenting to-do list. But she did pass the second time and now, since November, has her official driver's license. Most of the time I am okay seeing her drive out the driveway alone, but sometimes I want her to be 6 again, not 16. 

Ryan loved the first session of Mountain City Center for the Arts and performing with his troupe in the Spring. Then, this fall he enrolled again and his solo line of two words: "Beautiful food......" was the best part of the performance for his mama. He turned 12 this year and I have heard the words "preteen" come out of his mouth a few times. Nope. Not happening. But maybe, just maybe it's just because he is enrolled back in the Preteen Musical Theater Workshop for Spring 2016. 

Oh, who am i kidding? My baby will be a teenager in 2016. This life that I live just has a way of happening despite what I do. And I've been reminded this year, not just in my life, but in the lives of others, that nothing we do or expect is set in stone. Life can take a detour or make a sudden stop or even pull ahead full throttle before I am ready. 

What can I be secure in? I know that God loves me. Period. A chapter in the Bible that speaks to me today is John 10. Jesus is the Shepherd and I am one of his sheep. Verse 4 strikes a chord because it says that "...he goes on ahead of them (sheep)...."  I don't know where 2016 will take me, but I do know that He goes ahead of me. I won't pretend that I know exactly what that means but I will take it as a promise. I like what Amy posted back in September: 

Amy Maust

September 4, 2015 · 

New beginnings. New friendships. New perspectives. New cultures. New challenges. New love. I never had any intentions of stretching myself this way, this soon... but God is well-known for throwing surprises at me in my life. And I can't tell you how thankful I am for that. I don't know what to expect in this next year, but I know that God is going to walk with me through all of the highs and lows and I can move forward confidently in that.

Love, 

Dianne

Applying the Polishing Touch

For most of my life, I have never painted my fingernails. I've never had a manicure or pedicure. As a gardener, I'd just ruin it and as a nurse, it just wasn't allowed. Not to mention, it just felt weird to do. It just wasn't what a Mennonite girl did when I was growing up. Painting your nails was right up there with dancing, wearing make-up (or as Dad would say, "rouge") and wearing jewelry. So for most of my life, other than the few occasions that my little girls would paint my fingernails, they have been "au naturel"

My toes? They get a seasonal color when I feel like it. No one really sees my toes much. Well, except that one time I was helping an artist and dressed like an Amish mama picking berries with her small children. The gentleman at whose property we were picking berries at really thought I was Amish. I don't speak much Pennsylvania Dutch so I thought that would be a give-away, but instead it was the mossy green painted toenails.

During the month of training in Baltimore for the new job I am in, I decided to paint my fingernails. Somehow, it made me feel bold. More confident. But it was more than that. You see, when I would be in my hotel room in the evening, I could sit and paint them and then I'd have to hold still and be patient while they dried properly; otherwise, I'd end up with a wrinkly finish and marred nails.

I do not do "patient" very well. Not at all.

But for this, to get a smooth, shiny finish, I had to hold still. I had to wait. The results were worth it.
Not just in the red, gray, blue or brown finished nail, but in my thoughts. Instead of constant frantic movement and chaos, my thoughts slowed too and throughout the nail painting process, I found relaxation and calmness.

Is painting my nails necessary for those things to happen? No. But it was a nice surprise and it was an easy, inexpensive way to treat myself to something fun. Another benefit? I stopped picking and chewing at my fingernails which I tend to do when I'm bored or anxious about something. After a month of training, my nails looked better than they ever had.

I'm still a gardener but right now, it's winter. I'm still a nurse, but my role has changed and the polish is allowed. Maybe, as I polish (Definition: a substance used to give something a smooth and shiny surface..) I can polish ( Definition: refinement or elegance in a person or thing) some other areas in my life. 

Like that little thing "patience".  

Tonight, I am curled up on the couch watching Holiday Inn with Heather and I think a little red is just the thing. It sure beats running about the house cleaning or doing "just one more thing".

Staying Grounded

The last few months have been a bit of a whirlwind. I find myself spinning, barely getting my foot on the ground and then I am sucked back up into the whirling confusion of to-do's and schedules, fundraisers, dance classes and musical-theater workshops. Add into that just the normal day-to-day things that need to be done, like laundry and dishes, grocery shopping and food preparation and you get the gist of it. Life can be crazy and at times a definite tornado!

Just a glimpse of what I've been up to:

Taking Amy out on a Starbucks date before taking her to Ohio way back in September.

So when did my kids grow up? 

When? 

I'm still 25. 

They all have birthdays and sometimes we celebrate a boy turning 12 at Dawdy Haus. 

But I'm still 25. 

I treated myself to a Country Living Fair in Columbus, Ohio in September. 

It was glorious. 

I believe I'll be back...

...for my 25th birthday. 

I spent time with my kids just hanging around the house. 

They really do keep me young. 

Like "25 young". 

 Then October came in like a cartwheel 

and before I knew it, 

I was in Baltimore for interviews 

and then starting a new job. 

I had to get up early every day and I grew to enjoy my time in the car before I'd head in for training. 

God, the book of Proverbs and I had a date at the waterfront. 

I've been a nightshift person for so long but I think this morning stuff is contagious. 

I'm not totally a morning person yet but it is definitely growing on me!

During training, I had to tell myself this a lot. 

"Stay in your lane!!" 

While I need to know what's happening all around me, especially in heavy traffic, 

it is important to be responsible for what's going on in my lane,

both in traffic and in life. 

October cartwheeled away and then November somersaulted in and my girl Adrienne turned 24.

Isn't that impossible??

Especially since I am 25. 

We celebrated over lunch at Mountain City Coffee. 

It's our Saturday Mama-Daughter Date Place. 

November continued.

Training continued.

I'd come home on weekends and I just drank in my surroundings. 

Distance really does make the heart grow fonder. 

I even missed the cows. 

  And now, it is the Saturday before Thanksgiving. 

I have a wee break to let the tornado, cartwheels and somersaults subside. 

Today I had another date.

This time with Amy, home for a week before she ventures out on another journey that will take her far from home, but not from heart. 

If I've learned anything over the last couple of weeks and months, 

it is to appreciate the moments of life that make it worth living,
those Bible study in the car moments,
those coffee dates with the kids,
the birthdays, the every days,
even the work days.
In the whirlwind of blessed activity, reach out and grab ahold of what's there.
You might be surprised at what keeps you grounded.

1 Kings 19:11-12

The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

Love,
Dianne

From Noxious to Nostalgic

Walking out from workplace the other night I inhaled the nighttime air deeply. With the beginnings of   Autumn peeking about, the smell of crunchy leaves and drying corn is just to hard to resist. I reached my car, pulled open the door and dropped into my seat with another deep inhalation, more of a "I'm headed home!" kind-of-a sigh.

I nearly gagged.

Closing my door, I quickly checked the bottoms of my shoes. I must have stepped in dog poop. Or cat poop.  Maybe a dead bird....Nope, all clear on the shoes. What on earth was causing this wretched, eye-watering stench? Ugh.

I popped open my door again and looked on the ground. Nothing.
I checked my shoes again. Nothing.
I closed the door. This time, no deep inhalations. I tried to only breath through my mouth.
I couldn't stay sitting here; I might as well start the drive home.

As I drove, I kept trying to identify the offensive odor.
Was it the garlicky bag of chips that I'd stashed under the passenger side sun visor?
No, I had eaten those and thrown the bag away.
Did Ryan leave a half-eaten sandwich under my seat? I pulled over and checked. Nothing.
This was going to  drive me crazy!

Okay now: think! It was fine, just fine, this morning when I drove to work. So, did an animal crawl into my car, under the hood during the day and die? It just didn't make sense. All I knew was that I was headed to Wal-Mart and I needed to get an air freshener along with the other groceries we needed.

My shopping done, I headed back to the Stinky Car. A lot of times I just toss the purchased items into my back seat but this time I popped the trunk. When I did, an almost visible wave of stench waved from my sun-heated trunk.

I nearly gagged. Again.

There, on its side was a yellow gallon jug of milk from two or three days ago. It didn't explode exactly, but no longer able to contain its contents, it leaked about a half gallon of sour, spoiled, rotten, foul (you get the idea) milk into my trunk. The rest of the milk was one lump of a curdled mass and I really hoped that wasn't what Little Miss Muffet was eating when the spider sat down beside her.

I am not sure if knowing the cause of the smell made it better or worse. I have memories of my best friend's family car when we were kids; someone had spilled milk in it and the smell seemed to linger for years. That actually was a nice thought because I always liked going home with her in her car so in that sense I kept thinking the noxious aroma I was being assaulted with now might actually fade to a nostalgic remembrance in years to come.

In another sense though, this was like a black cloud of stink that no matter where I went in my car, I couldn't escape. You know, like how you can get away when you drive by a roadkill skunk or a farmer's field with freshly spread manure. You have a minute or so of stench that makes your nose wrinkle and your throat clench but then, it's done. You drive on.

When I finally got home I promptly evacuated and ran into the house and grabbed a box of baking soda. You know, to absorb the smell. Especially since I completely forgot to purchase air freshener when I was at the store.

The smell must have burned a few of my common sense receptors.

Love,
Dianne

Doing the Happy, Sad, Proud, Nostalgic Dance

The last couple of days have been happy, proud, a little sad, and a bit nostalgic, full of emotional ranges that in some ways I can't even express. One minute I am on the very brink of tears that aren't completely sad and not completely happy either; then the next minute I am smiling and the tears have gone back into hiding. That is, until the next minute rolls around.

All summer this family has been gearing up to send Amy to REACH, an outreach program that involves three months of Discipleship Training and then six months in Thailand. I am proud of the choices Amy has made and my heart beats in peace with every step she takes. She is in God's hands and I do rest in that.

That does not mean that my heart isn't just a little sad. The apron strings are slipping and with each knot that comes undone, another of my little chicks is venturing further from the nest. And I mean, Grantsville and Salisbury is one thing, but Thailand is quite another. I have to spin the globe to see where she she will be.

And then there are these two: Heather and Ryan. 

Today was their first day back to school. 

Heather is a Junior and in October can get her official I-can-drive-alone Driver's License. 

Ryan is in the 6th grade; his class is starting to switch a few classes 

in preparation for high school next year. 

And there is only two of them. Not five. Sniffle, sob. 

Happy, sad, proud, nostalgic. 

For the record: I did not pick out anybody's First-Day-of-School outfit. 

Sometimes when they look back at years past, I hear comments on their attire. 

"My shorts were so short". (Aaron)

"We look sooooo 90's." (my girls)

"Oh my goodness! Look what we were wearing!! Gasp!" (all of them)

Ryan's sandal things with socks. That was all him. 

(Someday when he looks back and wonders "WHY??" I will have it in writing.)

I told them to look like how they really feel about going to school. 

I got this: 

Then I said, "Okay now, show me how you are going to look going into the school." 

I got this: 

Yes, my house is going to be quiet today until about 1:30pm (it was a half-day). 

I'd walked up the driveway with the two of them. 

We'd taken the required pictures. 

We'd paused and said a prayer for the day. 

Then they saw the bus and would I please, please, please be headed back down the driveway before the bus actually got to our driveway because they are in 11th and 6th grade and 

really, really, really don't need their mom to walk them to meet the bus. 

So I smiled at them and briefly considered ways to embarrass them. 

But in the end, I turned down the driveway towards the house,

 but I couldn't resist just one more picture of them with the bus. 

Happy, sad, proud and nostalgic. 

Happy: My kids are healthy and independent. They do crazy things like wear socks with sandals and tell me jokes like this one: "Where does the President keep his armies?.....In his sleevies." 

Sad: My kids are independent and don't always need their mom. 

One by one they are leaving the nest. 

It is how it is supposed to be but it still makes me a little sad. 

(I'd probably be really sad if they all just decided to never move out. Ever.)

Proud: They are growing up and want to serve God. They are best friends, teachers, and missionaries. They take care of the ones God has placed into their lives. 

Nostalgic: I miss piggy-tailed hair, primary colored backpacks and elementary art projects. 

90's clothes were cool. You know it. 

Like my kids. 

Cool. 

Goodbye. 

See ya later alligator.

In a while crocodile.

See you soon baboon. 

Love, Dianne