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Man-angels~Part 2

7 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

I appreciated my caring family’s offers to drive me to our son’s and wife’s house, but I knew I was perfectly capable of driving myself to Orange City. It turned out to be the best vacation I’ve had in a long time. Because we are all busy, active, and productive, we have not had much time to talk lately. Now we did and it was glorious. I see my daughter because she lives closer, but my daughter-in-love and I have enjoyed conversations since we first met, so we were glad of the opportunity to catch up.

The evening of the storm we three sat and talked after supper. That night in my absent granddaughter’s beautiful room, I heard the wind and rain and something flapping, but I had my earplugs in and I felt loved and safe, so I didn’t have much trouble going to sleep. The power went out the next day, so we had no electricity, but the shutters were off and we did have plenty of water. We made up a hurricane casserole, using cooked wild rice layered with spinach and turkey-roast chunks. The man-angel cooked it on the outside grill with the lid down. It tasted delicious and the man-angel finished it off after we two ladies were full. It was a meal to remember. Every light in the house went on after we finished it.

 

1

 

On Friday afternoon people began coming out of their houses and driving by in their cars. We heard chains saws revving up and trees protesting as the half blown-over ones came to rest on the forest floor. I talk to myself sometimes, so I asked myself: “What shall I do now?” I had some writing to do and a good book to read and daughter-in-love had a puzzle. But she came right into my self-talk and made the wonderful suggestion that we go for a walk now that the storm was over. We got the dog’s lead and ventured out. It is a semi-rural neighborhood and the pastures were green and the fresh air smelled of cedar and pine. We discovered we had two more miles worth of talking to do.

 

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Laika

 

We saw a large herd of domestic Alpacas that came right up to the fence, to say hello to Laika.

 

3

Alpacas

At another property, something ran down a small incline from the house to greet us. We thought, from the way it trotted, that it was a small black and white dog, but it turned out to be a little pig instead.

 

4

Tuxedo pig

We then saw two sand-hill cranes in a field and our menagerie felt complete.

 

5

 

 

To be continued

 

 

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Man-Angels Part 1

31 Oct

My Take

DiVoran Lites

1

 

I would like to present a new word, unless somebody already has come up with it. The word is man-angels. It means earthly angels who happen to be men of the human race. Now, I imagine there could be all kinds of theological discussions over this. I wonder if God’s angels from Heaven have any similarity to us, but let’s imagine they do.

The name came to me during the recent hurricane which, strangely, had the same name as a book in the Bible: Matthew. The media announced that a terrible storm was on its way. Everyone took it seriously. In the fifty years we’ve lived in Brevard County, we have never known such destruction as was predicted for the night of October 6, 2016. We were given a mental picture of a blitzed and destroyed land.

Because my husband was away at the time, I became a woman alone. Might I say elderly woman alone. Bill knew he had made our house safe enough for 150 mile an hour winds, and frankly neither of us was worried about it except for one thing: I knew I would be scared in the house alone when the big one struck in the middle of the night. Our daughter hoped I wouldn’t be so frightened that I would get sick. Our son reckoned I could get hurt, especially if rain got under the shingles and the roof lifted off, a very real danger with hurricanes.

Our daughter was at home with her husband, looking after a family member who has dementia. She called her brother and asked if he could drive to Titusville from Orange City and put up the shutters. He asked his grown son to meet him here. They came at night because the next day, they were both expected to work, at least from home. The put up the shutters in the dark Wednesday night. They were soaking wet from the humidity even though it wasn’t raining yet. Fortunately we had repellant for the hungry mosquitoes and flashlights to see by. We also had light-weight, clear, shutters. They left here close to midnight for their respective homes an hour away. Man-angels.

I really did plan to stay. I’d be with my two cats and we’d get through it. Besides, I most definitely did not want to pack a suitcase. On Wednesday our daughter texted that she thought it would be good for me to go ahead to Orange City because the threats were dire. Then our son called and asked me again to come.

Then he set up a group text. Dad, Mom daughter, son, and son’s wife. We started texting like crazy. My husband who was in Ohio, was needed for lots of advice about where things were and what actions he had set up in case of such a storm. It was family communication par excellence! We even laughed a bit. Our daughter came to the house and helped me prepare for the storm.

After the warnings became even more threatening, our daughter and son each called me and insisted it would be better to go to Orange City for the duration of the storm. They answered all my objections calmly and reasonably. No one became impatient. They are negotiators and diplomats. I heard their concerns and decided to go. Our daughter offered to drive me and our daughter-in-law offered to come and get me, an hour each way for either of them. A mom loves to be so looked after and I was no exception.

To Be Continued

 

 

 

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A Fair View

20 Oct

 

A Fair View…From a Volunteer

By Patricia Franklin

1

DiVoran:

Our guest blogger, Patricia Franklin and her husband volunteered at the Colorado State Fair this year. These are her observations as seen in the Publication of Pikes Peak Citizens for Life newsletter:

I have been a volunteer at the  Pike’s Peak Citizens for Life booth for several years and would like to express what a positive impact it has had on visitors. This year, in fact, the display seemed to impress many people.

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For more fetal baby models see:

http://www.hh76.org/details.aspx?prod_id=1333

Men, women, families, teens, and children were all interested in the display. The children loved the models and loved seeing how a baby grows. Boys as well as girls, asked to hold the 12 week models. Pregnant moms were excited to see how big their own babies were. I was particularly surprised and heartened by the number of men who commented, thanked, and encouraged us.

A man approached the booth, picked up a couple of 12 week models, and handed them to his two teenaged girls. I gave them a brochure, he pointedly said to them, “Read that!” as he handed me a donation.

One young man came up with several of his friends, saw the models and repeated excitedly, “My baby is 11 weeks old! My baby is 11 weeks old!” He hurried back to find his wife and brought her over to look at the baby models. His friends thoroughly enjoyed his outburst and enthusiasm.

Some men had tears in their eyes. One man with his wife and two teenage sons stopped, looked, and tearfully said, “I thank God every day for my sons.”

Several people asked, “How can anyone abort a baby,” or commented, “God bless you for your work.” Some from past years stopped by to give a donation.

The video stopped people in their tracks. Even mothers who already had children were excited and surprised that the baby in the film was opening its mouth, yawning, and sucking its thumb right in the womb.

A couple of men and a woman hurried up just as we were closing for the evening. They thanked us, took our hands, and prayed with us.

There’s really no other public venue where people have access to this type of information, and they are so pleased and grateful that it’s right out there for them to see and share with family and friends.

I just wanted you to know what an impact Pike’s Peak Citizens for Life have made on people’s lives. For me it is a blessing to be a small part of this experience.

List of Pro-Life Organizations.

 

 

 

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A Peck of Dirt

17 Oct

My Take

DiVoran Lites

1

 

Small child
Kneeling in the dirt,
Making mud pies
To crunch and grind
Between your teeth,
And swallow.

 

Draw a hopscotch pattern in the dirt.
With a stick from off the playground.
Throw ancient, broken glass
Onto a hopscotch square,
Pick-up broken glass
Balanced on one leg.

 

Eighth grade softball
With the other kids.
On a dirt diamond.
Never miss a ball.
Sit on it if you must.
Everybody bathe on Saturday.

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Gopher Tortoise

10 Oct

My Take

DiVoran Lites

gopher-tortooise

Oh, armored one with your:

Pointed beak,

Big Fat Tongue,

Long sharp claws,

Lumbering gait,

Tunnel master,

I just want to talk to you.

Don’t disappear

Into your shell.

Into your burrow.

Please come out

I won’t harm you,

Or the secret life you live.

Slow and so free.

 

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Sugar Ants

3 Oct

My Take

DiVoran Lites

sugar-ants

 

As small as a 14 point period, they:
Forage in a line or a circle
Around any food particles
On the floor or inside a
Compost container, love:
Dried cat food on the floor,
Zip-bagged honey jars.

 

Please try to remember that:
Ants are enemies.
Remove from hot coffee with,
The corners of several tissues.
Sprinkle diatomaceous earth
On every new trail,
And caulk all holes and cracks.
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Clouds

26 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

1a

 

 

Clouds of infinite and irreplaceable variety

Flowing and developing like a water-color painting.

Angry black clouds and Jesus rising from sleep to speak:

“Be still and know that I am God.”

Clouds with sunlight and silver linings.

Peace that passes understanding.

 

 

 

 

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Horse

19 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

 

3-horses

 

Herd animal, grazer,

Needs other horses

Or a goat

Or a dog

Or a gentle human

Big soft eyes

Long Eyelashes

Easy gait

Follows faithfully without complaint.

Long-legged foals.

Horse therapy.

Horse sense.

4-horses-by-water

Photography by Melody Hendrix

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The Fountain of Youth

29 Aug

My Take

DiVoran Lites

fountain of youth

 

 

I would like:
To snorkel around the Fountain of Youth looking for friendly perch.
I would like:
To coast down a long, winding hill on a bicycle.
I would like:
To gallop across a prairie on an appaloosa.
I would like:
To dance the polka around a gymnasium floor.
I would like:
To share a banana-split at a soda-fountain.

 

But for now:
I see, hear, chew,
Smile, laugh, read,
Bake potatoes, make tea,
And slow-dance on shiny vinyl

 

I sing too:
“One Day at a Time”

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Grandmother’s Soup

22 Aug

My Take

DiVoran Lites

1

Grandmother and Granddad

I had a higgledy-piggledy education in cooking. Mother taught me, Grandmother taught me, and Dad had strict ideas about what should be done with meat and with beans. I also read books and taught myself. Even now, though, I cannot use a recipe exactly as it is written. I’ve tried. I’m sure some things would turn out better if I could follow, but I have a hard time with rules in any disciple. What I can do is experiment and when I do, I’m able to at least write down what I threw into the mix. I’ve been told I may be what they call a taster. All I know is I’m persnicity. Sometimes that gives me an edge on pleasing other people, but there are people who don’t like anything I cook, so then I get to eat out. I do enjoy being with people and I like a good pizza now and again. That’s something I’ve never mastered at home.

Today I was thinking about soup. Because too much fiber doesn’t set well with me, I had to give up having a big salad for lunch. As a side thought, Bill and I were each making our own salad and the only ingredient they had in common was lettuce and we each liked a different kind of lettuce. I do enjoy soup for lunch and I used to like the canned alphabet soup I fed the kids. I loved Grandmother’s potato soup and the vegetable soup our Mrs. McGregor made in the restaurant my parents owned, so I decided to make my own soups for lunch. I’ve been practicing and although they are not my Grandmother’s or Mrs. McGregor’s soups, I like them very much because they contain only things I like.

 

 

Grandmother taught me to make her potato soup. Peel potatoes, cut them up, boil them in water, while boiling, fry half a pound of bacon, make it crisp, then break it up into bacon bits, and add the potatoes in their water. Fry onions in the bacon grease and dump it all into the soup add milk. It was super-delicious. You can guess why I don’t make it that way anymore.

 

Nowadays I put in canned celery soup, leeks, carrots, cream, and a few other things. It makes me happy and Bill likes it too.

I also make a vegetable soup with Ramen chicken noodle soup as a base. I add frozen peas, grated carrots, a handful of cut-up spinach, chicken broth and home-grown rosemary, oregano, and thyme. I throw in a can of chicken for protein.

There’s one other kind of soup I like and I would love to figure out how to make it someday, but deep in my heart I don’t think I will. For one thing, it would be nigh onto impossible to get the crabs they use in Port Townsend in Puget Sound and I don’t think any other crabs would make the most delicious Crab Bisque I’ve ever eaten. Even the name sounds exotic.

Puget Sound Speed Crabbing

 

 

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