Snow

Her favorite seasons were Spring and Autumn, but she found beauty and joy in the snow. She always grazed remnants of the the freshly fallen flakes and made delicious snow ice cream for us to enjoy.
I can still taste Grandma's snow ice cream.

Today you played in the snow with your Grammy and she made snow ice cream. Your little brother was wrapped up like a little bear coming out of hibernation (in the words of Grauntie D). Your uncles made a snowman and you took a picture with your cousin, "Daddeus."

You probably won't remember your first snow just like you probably won't remember your first move. That long 10 hour drive from Alabama to North Carolina. After lots of purging and selling daddy's boat and four wheeler (to name a few toys), we loaded the uhaul and moved away from family, friends, and the familiar...downsizing from a 1600 sq. ft. house to a 700 sq. ft. apartment. We moved to an old cotton mill in Wake Forest. It was a Season of Simplicity. Your daddy had started the gruesome process of getting his Ph.D. and we were in a beautiful loft apartment on the third floor with colossal windows and twenty foot ceilings. Trust me , it sounds more romantic than it was. (One day I'll tell you about the time you pooped on me in a job interview - long story - and how I had to leave you one Saturday to go to work in the snow with chronic morning sickness - a gift from your brother). But we learned so many lifelong lessons in those few months and met so many people who touched our lives forever. Sometimes God closes one door and opens another, and sometimes He closes one door and opens more than you can go through. (But that's another story for another day...)

One of our favorite memories of that place was your first snow. When the first flakes started to fall we woke you up and carried you outside in the dark to see the "snow". You were mesmerized as the flakes fell softly on your little nose.

Today I remember one particular snowy Sunday morning. I was wrestling you on the changing table, dressing you for church in a frantic hurry when my eye suddenly caught a glimpse of something beautiful. Against the backdrop of complete white was a solitary, bright, red cardinal and a still, small voice whispering,
Slow down.
Be Still.
And Know
That I
Am God.
And I realized that He isn't in the strong wind or the earthquake or fire - but in the soft whispers and gentle breeze. In the commonplace, everyday, monotonous, ordinary, tedious, tiresome...moments and routines. The humdrum. In moments of peeling carrots and changing diapers.

I always find Him there.

And He is always waiting.

We are often forced to slow down and bear simplicity only when the storms hit. What is frustration to an adult is an opportunity for play to a child. I find the same childlike peace in the aftermath of a hurricane or when driven inside on a snowy day.

In the barrenness of winter time.

David Rensberger writes, "In winter, when the world is simplified, the subtler and humbler beauties can appear to us...red holly berries, or rose hips on their dry canes..Even a blue jay stands out. The simplicity and starkness of a winter scene bring to our attention creatures we overlook in other seasons. The beauty of such small humble things is an especially important expression of holiness for us, who are so easily impressed by size and ostentation."

So I pray for eyes to see. The beauty of red against white. His blood for our sins. "Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow. Though they be as crimson they shall be as wool."

Our family theme for for this year is joy in simplicity. And you remind me of this. When you say,"pray mama" (when I've given you some cheerios and forgot to pray) or..."sit mama" (when I'm busy and need to stand) or..."dance mama" (when I'm tired and want to sit). When you remind me to slow down and stop and smell the roses. {Literally. Every. single. dandelion.} When you have so much awe for God's creation. You soften my heart.

And I want to you to remind me of this when I am in too much of a hurry to see the beauty of stillness. To see the beauty of you. Because I want the eyes of Mary, but so often I have the eyes of Martha.

This morning you woke to see if the snow was still there. Your fine blond hair disheveled from sleep. It was a sweet reminder.

Today I am thankful for the joy of snow. Today I am thankful for you, my sweet girl.

Candy Apple Red

My cousin rode "shotgun" that night as my grandad drove his treasured, hand-controlled candy apple red van. From the backseat, I stared at two genertions in stark contrast to one another. One whose ears were lost without gauges and earphones, the other whose ears were fading while listening in silence to his Big Band music.

Promptness was an implicit stipulation for Grandad. He liked to be on time and honked his horn if Grandma wasn't ready for church on the dot. That night my cousin and I were ready on time. We sat silently as we rode in the dark, listening to Grandad's choice of music.

The backseat of a vehicle was not the most coveted spot when Grandad was at the wheel - especially in his later years- (he must have taken his driving skills after his own father, who supposedly drove with his knee while tying his tie), but I took my seat with pride that night. Somehow after living away from home for so long, I had started to miss those reckless rides to church when Grandad was in a hurry and destined to be on time. I missed the Sunday mornings when he asked me to button his sleeves as "I Know the Lord will Find a Way For Me" was playing in the background.

Our first Thanksgiving without Grandma had called us all together again and I kept thinking of how my cousin was taking the place of Grandma's unarguable spot. She would always turn her head to check if a car was coming, if the road was clear, an aesthetic metaphor for their lives. They had their unspoken cues, like the closing of her hymnbook on the chorus of the last verse as a signal for him to start walking back from the pulpit with his canes. My grandad silently took her place for the "all clear" after her neck surgery stole her ability to turn with ease, forcibly stretching his own neck in search of visible cars.

Innumerable memories had been fashioned in that van. We made the road trip to Virginia to pick it up after a hurricane had ravaged the Eastern coast and left the hotel water undrinkable. Grandad was so proud to have his first custom-made, specially-designed vehicle. Gone would be the days of lifting himself into the car from his wheelchair to the seat. The remote-controlled ramp made it possible for him to push himself right in. Gone would be the days of loading the wheelchairs in the trunk. His wheelchair now locked in place. When he brought the van home, he was so proud that he sent his mother in Oklahoma City a video tape for Christmas of the ramp going up and coming down, demonstrating his entry and departure into the vehicle with effortless ease.

He had been insistent on the color - candy apple red. He once ordered a red blazer jacket for Grandma. Red was his favorite color. She was beautiful in red.

I wondered what he was thinking about as the jazz music ebbed and flowed softly through the air. I had been reading a lot of Grandma's journal of memories since she she had passed away and wondered if he was thinking of the same thing. As he sat quietly I wondered...

Did he think back to his first drive in his hand-controlled Ford to meet that blue-eyed beauty?
His father encouraging him to overcome his shyness and the pouring rain to meet her? And their first date on an airplane...that his father had to encourage him to initiate? And their follow up date to a baseball game that he finally managed to ask her out to on his own? And then couple years later, when he finally got the nerve up to propose...

Did he think back to his first sight of his bride meeting his eyes walking down the aisle in her satin-covered crutches, every sacred step in his direction towards the handsome man eager to take her as his wife?

Did he think back to their honeymoon in New Orleans and driving her to his birthplace on the way home?

Their love story hit newspapers across the country and even overseas because they were married during March of Dimes week. From Chicago to California, Oklahoma City to Germany. Grandad joked they were celebrities and had to wear dark glasses to keep the fans at bay.

Did he think back to their early married days in Tampa, Florida, teaching her how to drive?
She wrote, "H.B. gave me a driving lesson - and we didn't even once think of separating! One thing that I remember was that the police department had a place to practice parallel parking and I knocked down a few markers learning! But I passed the test in downtown Tampa!

Did he think of the year they were voted "King and Queen for Valentine's Day" sweethearts?
We rented a small two room cottage just of the campus. In my extra time (ha!), I would audit classes. I loved church history and even sat in some Greek classes! I helped out, too, by typing papers and assignments for H.B. Since H.B. was on the staff of the faculty and also a student, we got invited to all the events for both teachers and students. One year we were voted to be "King and Queen for Valentine's Day" sweethearts. It was a beautiful banquet-formal. My long dress was of lovely pink satin. We made some lifelong friendships.

Did he think of drive-in movies and root-beer floats?
While we lived in our little new home we had such happy times together. I didn't have to work on Saturdays at the IRS so I caught up with things at home. I loved to cook and make our home tide and pretty. We liked to go to drive-in movies and we would get together with couples from church and play "hearts" and I'd make my mother's famous brownies. Did I tell you when we lived in the duplex on SE 29 there was a big front porch and I would pull off my braces (to be comfortable) and crawl from my wheelchair on to the porch and through the window into our car and off we would go for a drive or a root-beer float!

Did he think back to their road trip to California in the summer of 1951 in their Mercury? 
In the summer of 1951 we went on a holiday to California. It was great! Drove in our car - Mercury. We visited Knotts Berry Farm and a studio with a live radio program. Four couples were chosen to participate - we were one of the couples. It was called "The Perfect Husband." The wives were asked to tell why they thought theirs was the perfect husband! Guess who won! H.B. was the perfect husband and he's never let me forget! Never! We won lots of prizes...toured the Hollywood studio, saw a movie being made with Robert Mitchum and Jean Simmons. Went to hear Tony Martin sing on stage, ate at the Brown Derby...

Did he think back to the first time they waved good-bye to the American coast and set sail for an unfamiliar land?
From the deck we could see the Statue of Liberty. Lots of people were on the shore to see their frinds and relatives off. We left ours back in Oklahoma and Texas! It was a gala occasion with streamers flowing from the shore to the ship as people waved g'bye and people crowded on the deck to see the take off! 

Did he think of their love story of all the places they had lived, the achievements and accomplishments they had made together in spite of polio?

Did he remember their golden wedding anniversary, and how beautiful she still was fifty memorable years later?

H.B. gave me Chanel No. 5 and I gave him a handsome jacket, pants, and tie. I'm romantic in this French perfume. Many waters cannot quench love, rivers cannot wash it away. (S.o.S. 8) Twenty-two here on our anniversary, sharing beds and floors and lots of hugs and kisses. H.B. (Sr.) was our cupid.

Did he think of the life they had built together and how he would ever manage now that she was gone?

As we arrived at my uncle's house that night, he sat quietly in the corner, giving the gift of his assuring presence as we all laughed and played games. But he seemed so lonely. Was he dreaming of the days before all of us, none of whom would be there without her, his beloved wife of 59 years?

As we drove back home that night, my cousin climbed to sit beside me in the backseat. My mind drifted again. I imagined I was being chauffeured, the wide open space and ample leg room analogous to a limo ride. Grandad sat silently up front. Finally, the silence was broken as he told me and my cousin that the song we were listening to was played at their wedding. "I love these songs," my cousin said. "I want to download them on my iPod." I smiled as a lump collected in my throat. It was a beautiful night.

Little did I know it would be my last ride with Grandad.