Pretty excited to show you...

Thomas and Kay's wedding quilt!

From a stack of squares in shades of indigo, lavender, violet, turquoise, deep sky blue and cyan ...

arranged square by square on the family room floor...

stacked in numbered rows...

and stitched square by square, row by row, the top is done!

It's so big we had to hang it down over my parents' upstairs landing to show you the whole thing!

This is a stash value quilt, though I used both fabrics from my stash and a lot of new ones purchased with the recipients in mind.  One of my favorite parts of making any quilt is choosing the fabrics and thinking of special people for whom it is being made.   Thomas and Kay are the epitome of a couple that knows how to have fun together and I thought about that a lot as I chose fabrics.  

Now I have to choose the backing and binding fabrics and get it all put together.  I'm very pleased with how this has all come together and it really took less time than I anticipated.  They will be sure to have the completed quilt before their first anniversary!

If you want to know more about how to make this kind of quilt, I first saw this design idea here and was led to a very helpful tutorial here.  

Cobwebs and Potatoes

After that post about the gathering at our house, a few folks said, "I hope you're going to get some rest now."

I appreciate their sentiments.  Having a house (and porch and yard and pool) full of people can be tiring, but for me, it's a good tired.  I have finally learned (I hope) after the earlier years of fretting and fussing, that hospitality is not about the house at all.  It is not about the decor or the cleanliness, not even about the food.

Two stories that helped me to learn this...

Some years ago, I hosted a women's gathering in my home.  We sat with our tea and treats in my family room and talked.  We must have had some sort of women's meeting type topic, maybe a devotional.  Honestly, I don't remember anything about the content which probably has to do with the fact that I had likely worried about getting my house clean, scurried around barking out jobs, and probably rushing to get it all done and ready and nice before the women arrived.

A couple of months after this gathering, there was another one at someone else's home and many of the same women were present.  The topic of this second gathering, I do remember, was hospitality.

We sat around and talked about what hospitality really is and why we differ in our comfort levels with inviting people into our homes.  One woman, who had rarely invited anyone to her house shared how she was nervous about cleanliness and afraid people would not feel comfortable.

She had recently, however, invited a family to dinner and she told us what had helped her overcome her fear of opening her home.  She said, "Last time we met at Beth's house, I looked up in the corner of the room and saw big cobwebs.  I figured if Beth wasn't worried about the cobwebs and didn't mind people seeing them, I shouldn't worry about my house either."

I was, well not quite mortified, but a bit chagrined.  I had never even noticed those cobwebs.  I went home and the first thing I did was to look up in that corner and there they were, probably even bigger than they had been before, long dusty silken threads waving in the breeze.  From my friend's vantage point, they must have been so obvious and they really did look pretty bad!  She must have thought I was not much of a housekeeper, but those cobwebs gave her courage.

It was not the shortbread I had baked, nor the flowers on the table that meant the most to my friend.  It was the cobwebs she remembered.

And another little story, this one told to me many years ago when we lived in Kenya.

I had a friend, Margaret, who worked as an administrative assistant in a college in Nairobi.  She was a mother of three, active in the church, married to a university professor, fairly well off.  One Sunday, she and her family were invited by someone they'd just met at church, to come for lunch.  When they arrived, their host was busily peeling potatoes and putting them on to boil.  Margaret looked around to see what else she was preparing, but that was it.  Just potatoes.  That was all the family had to eat.  They sat down to a meal of boiled potatoes and talked and got to know each other better.  Margaret told me it was one of the most enjoyable lunches she'd ever had.  It mattered not at all that the only thing on the table was potatoes.  What was shared that day was much more than food.  Love was served in heaping portions.

Those are my stories.  They help me keep the right perspective on what true welcome means.  When I am tempted to fret about preparing for guests, I remember cobwebs and potatoes.

*pictures from Sunday's gathering

Today this home got to love on some people.

We had a potluck with a few friends.  52 of them.  Plus us.  59 in all.  We would have had 60 but one friend left to stay with the children of a mom in labor!

We were celebrating and enjoying the visit of our dear, dear friends, the Sneads, who live and work in China.  They come back every so often and we all want to hang out with them so we throw a big potluck and visit all afternoon.

Lots and lots of food spread out on the big table with all the leaves in, desserts on the counter, tables set up in our driveway, blankets on the ground for kids, a screen porch and family room full of folks.  People ate, talked, swam, played friscup and ping-pong, ate some more, and talked some more.  People lingered, slowly filtering home and after the big boys left in the late afternoon to play basketball at the park, the kitchen friends stayed to clean up. 

Those kitchen friends - they're the ones who know where everything goes in my kitchen and who don't wait to be asked before they wash dishes, unload the dishwasher and put it all away, take out the trash, wipe the counters.  They are the friends who stay til the end to make sure everything's in order before they take their tired selves home.  Everyone should have kitchen friends.  I am really quite fortunate that way.

The boys and I worked hard yesterday to get ready.  We cleared away some junk and swept out the garage. The driveway had a coating of silt - the deposit left from heavy rain washing across bare spots in the yard.  We cleaned it and then moved and set up tables and chairs, spread tablecloths and picked queen anne's lace for simple centerpieces.  I vacuumed and moved chairs, washed the kitchen floor, cleaned the bathroom, cleared out the clutter.

The kitchen still has a big brown water spot and a hole in the ceiling, the furniture is mostly hand-me-downs and cast-offs, the carpet is worn, the deck is old and splintery, the front yard not the lush lawn I'd like to see, the weeds abundant.  Does any of that matter when people sit around with good food and great conversation?  It does not.

Susan wrote, "A house shows off for people.  A home loves them."   I'd like to put that on a plaque and hang it right above the chipped kitchen counter.  Maybe I'll do that by the time we have our next little gathering.

Another son, another moment

We cleared the dishes and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the others to come downstairs to play an after dinner game.  We noticed the pink glow of sky beyond the trees out back and decided to take a walk up the street to the top of the hill to see the sunset.

Our house is in a bit of a valley, surrounded by tall oaks, hickories and poplars.  We don't have a vista. The only spot along our road where we can see for any distance is the power cut under the high tension lines.  Not so scenic.  Still, we can climb the gully-scarred red clay hill and watch the sunset to the west ... and that's something.

As Matthew and I walked up the road last night, we noticed the colors.  I pointed to one spot that was turning my favorite color, a saturated aqua sky blue (there must be a name for this color) and M pointed to a spot that was softly fading from peach into blue.

Atop the hill, I picked a couple of handfuls of ripe blackberries and we shared them, gazing to the west, power lines and the roofs of ticky-tack suburban houses that have sprung up in a farmer's field since we moved here strung across our sunset.   The colors were stunning and the tall hardwoods along the distant hills between us and the city blurred like a rolling mountain range.

Matthew and I both read Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl, a few months back and he reminded me of the subtitle: Wide-Eyed Wonder in God's Spoken World.  Last night we stepped out the door and walked up the street to the top of a rather unsightly hill  - and that's what we had, wide-eyed wonder.  The man-made, banal, and unattractive didn't go away.  It just faded to insignificance in that moment in the glory of the God-made, extraordinary, radiant.

We stood on the hilltop awash in color and my son put his arm across my shoulders.  

A sweet moment

I had a sweet moment yesterday.  But I have to back up a little bit.

Joel and I have been trading books this summer.  He often comes to me and asks what he should read next.  I sometimes pull out the "official" list, the one our co-op writing/ literature teacher sends out every summer.  He's read a lot of the books on that list.  It's a good list.  There are other good lists out there, but there are still plenty of great books that haven't made those lists ... yet.

So, early in the summer, I suggested Unbroken.  I hadn't read it yet, but Coty (and everyone else who's read it) liked it.  Joel read it quickly and told me I needed to read it.  So, I did.

Then I read Island of the World.  Next time he came asking for a book, that's what I suggested.  He's about 600 pages in now and I ask him just about every day what's happening.

Now, here's the sweet part.  As I read the book, I put little slips of paper in various places to mark pages with passages I loved.  Then I went back and copied the passages in my quote journal.  I thought I'd removed all my little markers after copying the passages, but apparently not.  Yesterday, Joel walked in the room where I was working and said he'd gotten to one of my markers.  Now, since this is a library book, of course, I had not underlined anything.  I asked him where he was in the story and he proceeded to read to me the exact passage I had copied.  I hadn't even hinted at it.  Honest.  He just knew why I had marked that page.

I felt happy.  Warm.  Connected.  Known.  And thankful that my 16 year old son found rich and meaningful something that had so resonated with me.   Yeah, it was a sweet moment.

The Fathers in my life include...

My dad, Cantey, Granddaddy, Papa C - whose creativity, humor, wide ranging interests, generosity, thoughtfulness, and love have supported me in more ways that I can number.  Daddy said to me a long while back something I will never, ever forget:

"Our mistakes as parents are mistakes of our humanity, not our intention."

The humility in those words has stayed with me and bolstered me when I've felt the sting of messing up as a parent. It's the common lot of all of us who have children.  We will blow it sometimes.  But it was never in our hearts to hurt, never our desire nor intention to make mistakes that caused pain to our children.  I feel deep gratitude to my Daddy, whose words and example free me from the false notion that I can somehow  be the "perfect parent."  We parents need grace, too.

My husband, Coty, Sweetheart, Papa - who delighted in each newborn, played "rolly-ball" on the floor with toddlers, "dangerous criminal" with youngsters, and still plays basketball, Backgammon, board games, word games, really any game with all of us, who encouraged and taught all of our children, read countless books to them, understood and still understands the vicissitudes of the teen and young adult years, who delights in his granddaughter and looks forward to more grandchildren, who leads spiritually, trusts deeply, counsels wisely and prays daily - the loving father of our six children who welcomes many others into our family circle - this is man with whom I gladly, joyfully, and sometimes through tears share the adventure of parenting.

My son-in-law, Luke, Daddy to Clara, the Cowboy - who deeply loves our daughter and granddaughter in visible and vocal ways, who works hard shouldering responsibility with faithful care, who is creative, funny and fun and is raising his little girl to know and love God - this is the young man I am so glad my daughter met in Cameroon almost ten years ago and who now makes this Mommy/Gramma glad.   

My father-in-law, TC, Bapa, the General - who welcomed his son's hippie vegetarian girlfriend one Thanksgiving Day long ago, and who carefully stewards and gives generously, who has shared himself and his love of backpacking with his twelve grandchildren enriching the lives of them all and who raised of his son to be a tender, faithful man - for all of these things, I am grateful.


There are more fathers - my two grandfathers, no longer living, of whom I have many happy memories; the father of my high school friend, Teresa, a father of 8, also gone home, who always said, "I hate kids" and we laughed and knew how much he loved; the fathers of my children's spouses who have shaped the children I rejoice to call my son and daughters-in-law; the fathers in my church... so many examples of strong, loving, faithful fathers.   On this day, I give thanks for them all.

Happy Father's Day!

Generosity

Dear kindle fairy,
You know who you are.  So do I.  But the world will not know because you wanted your incredible generosity to remain a secret.  You just wanted to give a great big gift and leave it at that.  Out of your great big heart, you gave.  From the bottom of my heart, I say thank you.


Thank you for the kindle, which will be used and greatly enjoyed by both the optimizer and me.


Thank you, even more, for the ways you show me how to live a joy-filled, giving life that blesses people wherever you go.


I am delighted and humbled by your gift.  May you receive your reward in full. (Matthew 6:4) 


With love,
The Satisficer


To the rest of my readers,
Yes.  I was secretly given a kindle yesterday by someone who was very sneaky and undercoverish.  I had some hunches but it wasn't that easy to figure out, because I am, indeed, surrounded by generous people.

I want to me more like them.  More like all those people who think, not of themselves, but of others.  More like those people who daily pour out their lives and resources in big and small ways.  More like those people whose eyes are on Christ and not on the fleeting treasures of this world.  More like those people who live out the Kingdom here and now as they await the Kingdom to come.

I want to be an optimizer and a satisficer in the Kingdom of God.

Optimizing the opportunities and gifts He daily gives, giving them back in joyful love and service

Satisfied completely in Him.    

Summer Reading #3

I'm giving a talk on healthy eating and doing a cooking demo for a group of women later this summer. In preparation, I've added a couple of foodie books to my summer stack.  Yesterday, I breezed through this one:

This very quick read gives Pollan's 64 "rules" that help us answer the question, "What should I eat?"

The basic answer is, in Pollan's words, "Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants."

He expands this answer with his rules which though commonsense, get lost in our day of nutritional information overload, conflicting health claims, fast food, and the decline of sit-down-at-the-table-and-enjoy-a-meal-with-your-family-and-friends eating.

Here are a few of my favorites:

#2 Don't eat anything your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize as food.


#13 Eat only foods that will eventually rot.


#18  Don't eat foods made in places where everyone is required to wear a surgical cap.

My favorite one,  #25 Eat your colors  

with an exception, #36 Don't eat breakfast cereals that change the color of the milk.

and finally,

#51 Spend as much time enjoying the meal as it took to prepare it.


Good advice.  Simple guidelines.  Pretty much the way we eat around here.

Even in suburbia...

we have our neighborhood farmers and honor system produce stands.  Makes me happy.

I paid what I hope the farmer agrees was a fair price for a nice little bag of yellow squash.  We roasted them for dinner.  Here's how:

Preheat oven to 450.
Slice thinly
Spray cookie sheet with cooking spray or olive oil.
Spread the squash in one layer.
Sprinkle with sea salt and lemon pepper (or plain pepper, if you prefer).
Roast for 10 minutes.
Some of the really thin pieces will get a little dark and crispy.  We love 'em that way.

It was just a simple question

I asked, "Do you think you would like a Kindle?"

He replied:

"Well, it would be nice for traveling..."

"But, then you wouldn't have the book if you wanted to give it away to someone."

"But, it would take up a lot less space in my carry-on."

"But, then I'd have to decide whether to buy the hardcover or the kindle edition."

My answer:

"If someone wanted to give me one, I'd happily take it and use it.  And if someone gives you one and you don't like it, pass it my way."

He's an optimizer.  I'm a satisficer.  We complement each other that way.

It's a good thing he's the one searching for a new used car.   My way would be faster but we'd probably end up with a clunker.

On the other hand, it's a very good thing, I'm the gardener.  Satisficer that I am, when I see a pretty flower, I plant it.  And feel very happy.

The daylilies and hostas are particularly lovely right now.

In the Image of the Maker

I went to a retreat this weekend.  First, I have to tell you how I got to go.

Waaaay back in February, I saw a link in Ann's sidebar for the retreat.  I have read and loved Ann's blog for years and thought, "Oh, wouldn't that be something to get to go?"  The theme of the retreat resonated with me and the thought of being with 75 makers, listening to Ann and to some beautifully talented singer-songwriters ... and it was at Caraway (a spot that holds a happy spot in our family for a variety of reasons). Well, I started hoping... sent the link to Coty ... and went off to the grocery store.  Figured I talk to him about it later.

I got home. Unloaded groceries.  Started dinner.  Went to check email.  Found a confirmation email from the retreat organizers in my inbox.  Registered.  Paid.  Yeah, my husband did that!  He knows me.  He knew that I'd love being there.  He clicked right on over and signed me up.  He's pretty special, that man.

A few good friends of mine went, too.  Amber, Carla, Jamie.  And one friend, Missy, that I'd never met in person.

This was not a polished, snazzy event.  This was three creative women who know their own brokenness standing nervously in front of the rest of us singing their songs and telling their stories.  Why would they do that?  They did it so that the rest of us would see both our brokenness and our giftedness; so that we would  frame our lives and see them as art; so that we would steward our gifts; so that we, broken, leaky vessels would anoint the world with the fragrance of Christ.

We heard some beautiful music...

and some wise words...

and came home richer.


******
If you have arrived here from Ann's link, may I just say that she is incredibly generous and gracious in her words.  I am so thankful for that woman.  She's humble.  She's real.  She's a treasure.  She and I had a long surprise, God-arranged conversation as she stepped off the elevator I was about to step onto.  What a gift!  So, thank you, Ann, for your kind words.  The pleasure of meeting, hugging, and talking face to face was so very sweet.

Finished it...

on my float, like I said.  

Didn't know the diving board would make such a shady little spot

 for an afternoon reading session. 

Summer Reading #2

"Louie found that the raft offered an unlikely intellectual refuge.  He had never recognized how noisy the civilized world was.  Here, drifting in almost total silence, with no scents other than the singed odor of the raft, no flavors on his tongue, nothing moving but the slow procession of shark fins, every vista empty save water and sky, his time unvaried and unbroken, his mind was freed of an encumbrance that civilization had imposed on it.  In his head, he could roam anywhere, and he found that his mind was quick and clear, his imagination unfettered and supple.  He could stay with a thought for hours, turning it about. (italics mine)

 He had always enjoyed excellent recall, but on the raft, his memory became infinitely more nimble, reaching back further, offering detail that had once escaped him.  One day, trying to pinpoint his earliest memory, he saw a two-story building and, inside, a stairway broken into two parts of six steps each, with a landing in between.  He was there in the image, a tiny child toddling along the stairs.  As he crawled down the first set of steps and moved toward the edge of the landing, a tall yellow dog stepped in front of him to stop him from tumbling off.  It was his parents' dog, Askim, whom they had had in Olean, when Louie was very little. Louis had never remembered him before."

I've been marveling at the resourcefulness and sheer will it took to survive 47 days on a raft in the Pacific, cringing in horror at the inhuman treatment of vicious POW camp guards, wondering how anyone could survive all that.  I'm reading Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand.

I gave this book to both Coty and my dad for Christmas.  I knew my runner husband and track history and statistics buff would like it because it chronicles the incredible story of a man who literally ran his way out of a troubled youth to a spot on the 1936 Olympic track and field team. When WWII broke out, he joined the US Army Air Forces and while on a mission to look for a lost plane, his own plane crashed into the Pacific. Louie and one of the other men who survived the crash drifted in the ocean until they were captured by the Japanese Navy.  They spent the rest of the war in POW camps and were thought to be dead.

I'll leave the rest of the story for you to read.  Or if this isn't going on your reading list anytime soon, you can learn more here or here.

I'm heading out to my own little raft in the middle of a much smaller body of water to finish the book.  There won't be any sharks or bombers strafing me.  Just floating with a good book in peace  -  my own little "intellectual refuge" for a bit.

Spray Paint Queen

This is the summer of spray paint and I am the queen.

 Last summer, I picked up a few things on the side of the road.  Some old plastic planters, a couple of metal lawn chairs, a little table and chair set.  They weren't too pretty.  But they were in good shape ... and free.

This summer they have been transformed by a wave of the paint can.

Planters for the pool deck,

Chairs for the porch with new pillows from fabric in my stash,

and the table and chairs, perfect for a morning cup of tea.

Here's the next project.  A bench that my neighbor got rid of before she moved last summer.  It will take more than a little spray paint to fix this baby.  I'll show you when it's done.

Before the clock strikes midnight...

I must wish a very happy birthday (again) to my #1 son!

Isn't he handsome!  

That was on our recent trip to Denver and our visit to 

Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs. 

That's Pike's Peak in the background.

I am very thankful for such a deep thinking, compassionate, kind, fun son.  

We laugh now at the way we used to butt heads.

I love you, Jonathan.  

First Summer Read

T's booklist led me to this first novel of the summer.  I read it the week we went to the beach.  It is long (850 pages) and not a light beach book, but I sat for hours as the waves washed over my feet, reading. I had the sunburn to prove it.  In the morning, I was first out on the porch, reading.  At night, by lamplight on the roll-away bed in the back room, I was reading:

"This morning I confessed my ongoing struggle to love my enemies, even those who are beyond reach - separated as we are by innumerable years and by a wide ocean.  He told me that all the sufferings in my past are a gift....


Would I like to have the gift rescinded?  Of course! Yet, in the strangest level of my self I know that it is a gift nonetheless.  How else do we know God's rescue unless we have been drowning?  Can healing be demonstrated without injury, or love be proven without trial?  Still, there is an ache in me that cries out: what of those who were not protected, who are left unhealed, who do not know love."

I read that on a windy beach afternoon to Jenn, who has trans-oceanic struggles and the gift of hardships but knows God's rescue and healing.

"He will leave in a moment, after just one more cuplet of coffee.  Europeans know how to make it right!  This is the best in the world, better than the specialty brands...in the delicatessens on Fifth Avenue.  Europeans understand that flavor is not about sensory stimulation, it is about evocation.  It is art and memory.  It is reunion with exalted moments, and such moments are never solitary ones.  In short, life without coffee is not really life.  The waiter brings it to him and tells him it's on the house!

With our toes in the water and the sound of waves as a backdrop, I read that to Andrew, who drank coffee last fall in Brussels, Paris, Madrid and other European cities.

"'We are so blind, so blind!' he groans, flailing his arms for emphasis, his face flushing, his voice intense with the excitement of his new discovery. 'It's as if heaven is raining miracles upon us, but we cannot see because we do not look.  It's as if fabulous birds fall unceasingly from the skies!'


'Peacocks and ostriches?' she laughs.


'No, no, I mean fabulous because they exist'..."


I read that and thought of some of my students whose eyes began to be opened this year to the miracles raining down.


I haven't told you anything about the story.  For that, I'll send you here.  Then you decide if you want to spend 850 pages of time with this beautiful and harrowing book.  If you do, I hope you will feel, as I did, that it was time well spent, that this is a book to savour, that your trek with the "walker of the world" was a journey well worth taking.

Southern Summer Sandwich

over at Good Food.

Done for now

OK.  I'm think I'm done tweaking for now.  Thanks to suggestions from Kandyce and Jennifer, I figured out how to make that blue flax from my garden fill the header space by adding a CSS code snippet and resizing the photo.  Are you impressed?  Don't be.  Without savvy bloggy people to lead me along, I'd be lost.  Thanks, you two.  I also learned how to use piknik for editing from Picassa.  That's a useful tool for those of us who don't have fancy-dancy photo editing software.

Now, how about a little content.

Today...

The three boys living at home this summer all head out the door to summer internships and jobs.  Andrew started at Piedmont Natural Gas in the Business Development Office yesterday.  Matthew begins his summer internship today with the Metrolina Baptist Association, working with churches all over the metro area.  Joel continues at his regular job at Chik-fil-a, making customers happy while they eat overpriced but very tasty fast food.  I know.  I've described his job that way before, but it's true.  They treat their customers right and  have really good lemon meringue pie.  Far better than the pie at Hot Fish Club.  But I digress.

With the boys all gone, I'm home alone with a list a mile long.

First on that list for today, garden chores.  I head out to the garden to weed, clean up massive fallen oak limbs, plant more seeds, and prepare an area out front for a tidy ground cover to replace the weeds.  I wish I had a pick-up with a chain so I could pull the tree stump from the Bradford pear that fell out of the ground.  Instead, I think I'll call our little local hardware store and ask for a recommendation of a local stump puller-outer.

Coty starts heading home today (he arrives tomorrow) from two and a half weeks in India. That's why there haven't been any pictures here lately.  He has my camera in India, taking pictures like these.

It's dry season there and very hot.  When we talked one day he told me that he was sitting in the shade thinking how nice and cool it was.  It was 95 degrees.  Cool, yeah.

Also, on my list for today.  Reading.  I have another mile long-list just for that.  I might put it over in the sidebar which means that if you read this blog in google reader, you might just have to click over to the real thing.  But then, you'll get to see the pretty header.  So, it will be worth it.  I am rambling now, so I will stop, fill my water bottle with ice water, don my gloves, and get outside where it will be about as hot as Bapatla in the shade today.

Happy June 1st!