Hellos

I hate goodbyes. So much emotion, sometimes successfully held back bravely but sometimes not. Tears still spill out. My childhood family used to sing a song "Sunday School is over and we are going home...goodbye, goodbye until we meet again" every time we pulled out of the driveway after a long visit with relatives, madly waving to them, singing, holding back the cry. My daughters banned it in our home, once they realized the poignant sorrow that it brought to all of us, the slow sadness of goodbye, goodbye.
We now say goodbye by reminding each other of the next visit, the next holiday, the next opportunity to get on a plane, compressing the time as if it was tomorrow. We promise to Skype. We talk about hellos. Hello is filled with hope and joy, excitement, plans and happy conversation. Hello is hugs and kisses,  walks to the park and shopping expeditions. Hello is lunches and dinners together, late night movies, long car rides to visit family, swimming pools. I will put away the toys today, and find little socks in odd places, eat the rest of the ice pops and try not to look at the little empty bed. I will shut my ears to goodbye, even though tears will come, and think only of the next hello.

Island Living

We returned yesterday from a 3 day trip to Put-in-Bay Island, in Lake Erie. This is the 4th or 5th time we have been there, but first time we actually slept on the island. We gathered with our far flung family to enjoy island life. We brought our bikes. We ate walleye and perch, drank Lake Erie wine and explored the island. We took ferries and swam in perfect temperature pools. We got sunburned. We didn't want to leave. The event was full of nostalgia for other island vacations we have enjoyed, and full of the miracles that were unique to this one. Our nephew only 3 weeks previously was in a serious bicycle accident and lay in an ICU, intubated and unconscious. Yesterday we were joking around on the Miller ferry. Two weeks ago I received news that the latest scan showed cancer progression, requiring a change in treatment. Two days ago I was biking happily on Catawba Avenue. Four weeks ago my husband had major abdominal surgery, and three days ago he was playing with our granddaughter in the pool. My father, still recovering from heart surgery in February, tooled around on his own on a golf cart, getting lost and found again. Island living, we are the picture of health and wholeness, surrounded by water, bathed in light, covered in love.

Orange Nails

My daughter Jane wanted some nail polish. It is Essie's Brazilliant. She saw it in one of her magazines and had to try it. We haunt Walgreen's since it is close and we always need a prescription filled and they carry Essie. Weeks of looking finally resulted in the Essie display with the space for the Brazilliant empty. No other color in Walgreen's large selection of various brands could match the promise of this orangey glow.
For whatever reason, my little girl, always so predictable and compliant as a child, has grown up with some surprisingly unpredictable behaviors. She had her navel pierced years before her ears. She likes expensive and radical haircuts. She chose an Air Force husband, traveling the globe instead of staying close to home. She loves teaching Middle School, and 13 year olds love her. She replaced the broken hard drive on my Macbook. She is a patient and loving mother to her very busy little girl. She wanted orange nail polish to paint her toes.
She finally found the polish, but I put it on first. My toes are the color of construction barrels, maybe brighter, and shout youth and the beach and party time. Toes that remind me that surprises are always just around the corner.

Loved Ones

My family is spread out in multiple states across the country; California, Washington, Delaware, Ohio, Massachusetts and more. We don't see each other often, but the email grapevine has been a reliable way to share news of all types. Successes, challenges, wedding and newborn photos, encouraging each other along life's highway. We have made family of our friends here, so when trouble comes, and email isn't enough, they show up with steaming bowls of food and lip smacking desserts. They bring their smiles and hugs and let us cry on their shoulders. Reaching out to each other in person, or in email, remind us that we are connected to all of God's family. There is a saying I like...Shared joy is double joy, shared sorrow is half sorrow...that speaks to the power of connection to one another. That connection stays strong through our love for those not physically present in our lives, either due to distance or death. We know them, feel them, hear the song they like or smell the perfume they wear. We speak to them in our service to others, feeling the tears on our shoulders, ladling the soup and warm bread to hungry souls. We do not lose those we love, we have them still, all around us in the love of God.