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Sunday, June 28, 2009

Birds of a Different Feather

I live in a bird sanctuary. No, I really do. There is a town ordinance that protects all the birds in our community. I'm not sure, but the neighbor's cat is not aware of this ordinance. But then maybe he is Nature's way of helping control the bird population.

My sanctuary is the screen porch which sits high on the second level of our house off the kitchen. It is not only my favorite room in the house, but guests and family seem to gravitate to it. Because of it's height above the ground the general feeling is that one is sitting in a tree house.

A large fir (pronounced "fur" around these parts) stands tall and stately directly behind the porch. It leans somewhat to the side, we think due to the ice storms in the 1960's. This is because many of the older trees on our mountaintop seem to be leaning the same way. When we first moved here, thirteen years ago we could see the back yard of the neighbors behind us. Today the limbs are too full and wide and completely shield our neighbors from us and us to them. It is also close enough to the house that squirrels are able to leap from the roof of the porch to the fir tree branches without any effort at all. That does not stop them from making a running start across the rubber roof of the porch and leaping like Superman to the nearest branch they can find.

This of course makes the birds who call the fir tree and the Bradford Pear which sits on the side of the porch their home, very angry. And remember, who's town is this? The squirrels or the birds? The birds and they do not let anyone forget it especially the squirrels. But who pays the price for this war? That's right - us humans!

For the most part the battle is dignified with the blackbirds and blue jays pretty much in charge. The average blackbird is about ten feet long - just kidding, but it feels like it. Actually, from beak to tip of tail, some can be at least a foot long and when you have three or more congregating in your trees/lawn the noise level is deafening. I, however, have learned to tune them out.

This is because I read the story "The People Could Fly" in the book of American Black Folktales told by Virginia Hamilton. According to folklore, long ago in Africa the people knew magic and flew like blackbirds over the fields. Then many of the people were captured for slavery and some shed their wings and after the long journey to America they forgot how to fly; while others kept it a secret. And then while in the fields, the slaves became ill and were tormented by the overseers and masters until finally they were ready to fly away. And with the help of the old man Toby who said the magic words the slaves rose up in the air and flew like a black cloud in a blue sky to freedom, leaving behind all the slaves who could not fly.

Whether or not I believe in the legend of slaves that turn into blackbirds is not important. Some may have escaped and some slaves may have died and many were left behind to remain slaves as did their children and were left as the author states, "with only their imagination to set them free." So each time I see a blackbird in my yard I am reminded as we approach our country's Independence Day, of the importance of freedom and to not take it for granted.

As I sit early in the morning just before sunrise I listen for the sounds of my feathered friends. Maybe the family of blue birds will nest in our "See Rock City" bird house; or maybe the mourning doves will coo their morning symphony; or maybe the beautiful red cardinal who watches me closely to protect his mate and her nest nearby will signal a hello today. I'm not sure, but am sure about one thing. I am a better person thanks to the birds who share my corner of the world, my sanctuary within their sanctuary.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

To the Fathers in My Life

I've been thinking a lot about some of the fathers in my life. First of all my own father who raised me to be the person that I am. I was his first-born and he was young. Now that I have stepped in his footsteps, I see why he was the way he was. Becoming a parent is an awesome responsibility. But my father had to be both mother and father to me many times in my life and for that I will always be grateful. A special memory I shared with my father was going to early Communion every Sunday at Trinity Episcopal Church. There was no singing or preaching just communion with God - the way Daddy liked it.

My brother and brother-in-laws are fine examples of fathers and have each given their own sons and son-in-laws a rich understanding of what it means to be a father - time, talent, laughter, experience, and love. Authentic to what it means to be a father each in their own unique way has remained faithful to their calling as parents therefore becoming a fine example for the next generation.

Nothing could prepare me to see my own sons become fathers themselves. Having pride in their ability to bring a child into the world and be prepared to raise that child still sends shivers down my spine. I am so happy they are experiencing this wonderful gift and so enjoy seeing it unfold on a daily basis. So too is the love I have for my son-in-law when I see him with my granddaughter. His love for my daughter and her brothers and their families affirms my thinking that my daughter made the right choice.

And too are the friends, the men in my life who take their role as father to heart. The single dad who looks at the world and sees God in everything; the grandfather that helped raise his grandson while his own son was a single dad; and the dad who by example not only walks IN the light of God but walks AS the light of God. How glad I am to have these men in my life.

Then there is the son who is not a father himself but the father-figure to his nieces and nephew. He holds their hands, comforts them when sick, picks them up with they cry, reads them books, and tells them stories and makes them laugh. But most of all loves them unconditionally with all his heart proving that the word FATHER is not just a word but a state of being.

Finally, there is my own husband and father of my children. I thank God every day for bringing him into my life. Little did I know when we fell in love forty years ago that my life would be what it has been. But one thing we knew then and stayed the course was that we wanted four children and God gave us three boys and a girl. And he has loved and adored each child just as I have. It has been a wonderful treat to see him the parent of a baby, child, teenager, and young adult but nothing compares to the man he has become - a grandfather - gentle, kind, proud, protective and loving. He is the father of my children and grandfather to our grandchildren and I love him.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

A Day with Mimi




Paige is sleeping. She stayed with us last night. Yesterday she had Krystal biscuits with cream gravy and sausage (thanks to her dad) for breakfast, popcorn and lemonade for lunch (thanks to Mimi) and Fritos and Dr. Pepper for dinner (thanks to Mark.) And who said this child was not spoiled? Oh yeah and chocolate ice-cream as a snack in the afternoon.


Baby Hayden was with us yesterday and in a growth spurt, all he does is eat and sleep. However Paige and I managed to take him on a walk when he woke from is nap. She pushed her baby doll in its stroller while I walked beside her pushing Hayden in his stroller. We made it past two houses. Thanks to the deplorable condition of the sidewalks in our neighborhood and thunder from afar we called the walk short and turned back. But it wasn't for nothing. Along the way we spotted some dog poop, an ant pile, and Hayden smiled and giggled the whole time. People waved to us as they passed us by. By the time we got home, Hayden was ready for another nap and his mother was there to pick him up.



Paige decided to spend the afternoon watching PBS cartoons and especially likes "Martha Speaks" which is the story of a dog who ate Alphabet Soup and instead of the letters going to her stomach they went to her brain therefore enabling her to speak. The cartoon is based on the books by Susan Meddaugh. The books are not nearly as good as the cartoons which teach lessons that are good for any age while the books sometimes uses words that are inappropriate, in my opinion, for young children to hear. It wasn't long, however before she was sound asleep taking a well-deserved nap.



Lexi came for a visit this past weekend. Paige said it was her job as oldest cousin to introduce Hayden to Lexi, although the two had met before. Getting all three together is almost impossible but we did get Lexi and Hayden in a picture. Not sure what the children were watching but it wasn't the camera. What fun it is!

So as Paige says, "How about now Mimi?" And off we go for a piano recital (make believe), the library to return our books from last week, a walk in the neighborhood, and maybe a trip to the park with Uncle Brian!



As always - Life is good!