Project Completed!

Thank you, Dennis, for coming from Florida and being here to celebrate with me.  You told me you would come and repair our wall and you did.  This was your gift.

After working Saturday morning you ran out of materials......river stones?  I had seen them for sale around town but Ann decided we should go down to the river and collect them so the wall would stay local.  Now collecting several dozen stones from along the Roanoke River Greenway is not simple.  "Take the truck down," she suggested, "and we will load it up."  But you can't take a truck on the Greenway.  "Let's send all the family members down and have them carry up three or four."  So we went looking.  I remember that in my youth one could easily find the smooth elongated stones.  That's why so many walls were built using those stones. But with the flood control excavations along the river a lot of rif-raf was brought in for fill.  We didn't find many true authentic river rock.  We used what we had and then made a step for easy passage from one yard to another.  

Thanks to our family Master Stone Mason, Dennis, the wall is completed.  Today I took down the "wet cement" sign.  Project completed!

Becky knows that I love red so she ordered this vintage step stool for the kitchen.  This was a pretty significant step because it is meant to replace  Madeline's (her mother, my aunt) stool that has resided in the corner of the kitchen for at least 65 years.  They remember Madeline resting on the stool while she cooked.  But these days it's in pretty bad shape.

There's another story here.  Carol, Becky and I have a special talent for putting things together.  We are a team and recently spent two days putting Carol's new computer table together laughing the entire time.  Becky sorted the pieces; Carol handled the screws; and I directed.  Well ladies, I need you here!  This stool is in fifteen pieces and needs to be put together.

Thank you, Becky, for the gift.  It fits the red kitchen and I love it, or I will love it when you both come and help me put it together.  See you soon.

This morning I am beginning to read, To Bless the Space Between Us by John O'Donohue, an Irish writer of several books. His words are poignant raising up a sense of indwelling Spirit.  Here he speaks of new frontiers and the courage it takes to embark on those adventures.

May I have the courage today

To live the life that I would love,

To postpone my dream no longer

But do at last what I came here for 

And waste my heart on fear no more.

This 70th birthday as well as these words remind me that there are only so many years left that I might live that life that I am meant to live.  It's the life of the true self unfettered with the fear of judgement or failure.

Thank you Pat and Chuck.  To Bless the Space Between Us is a treasure!

What a Party!

On Saturday thirty-six of my family and friends surprised me with a birthday party for my 70th birthday.  For the last three months I had been questioned, lied to, mislead, and generally confused about what was going to happen on October 20.  To see that so many people came to celebrate was the most affirming event of my life.  I have a fantastically loving family and awesome friends for whom I am ever grateful!

The presents which ranged from poems to bottles of wine seem hold such special significance that it had to be an act of the Spirit among us.   For the next month this blog will be my experience of the gifts of love that were given to me and a thank you to each and every person who came.  Today they are still on the floor of the living room just as we left them on Saturday. Each day as I am moved to experience one of the presents, I will remove it from it's wrappings and on this Blog write about it and thank the person who presented it.  In this way we will continue the party together for the next month . I hope you enjoy!

Death Arrives

We had to "put down" a horse this week. His name was BamBam; he wasn't ours but one belonging to a friend and he had been with us since we opened the barn in 2007. BamBam was only 25 years old but his legs were giving out, the tendons were disintegrating and he was beginning to walk on his hocks.

Not ever having seen the "putting down" of a horse, such a large, majestic creature I had visions of holes in the ground and tractors dragging the dead corpse into the hole then pushing the dirt over the mangled body. However, it turned out to be more of a spiritual experience. The Vet arrived and soon after Bob drove in with his big red tractor. Bob was a gentle soul with cowboy hat and walked slowly up to the barn to chat with us for a few moments. He then unloaded his tractor and I led Bam out to the back pasture. Bob began to dig into the soft sugar sand making a smooth dig. I wondered why he had a ladder with him. BamBam was lead out and turned away from the hole in the shade of a near by tree. We hugged the horse, shed some tears, gave him his last carrot. Then the Vet gave him the shot and he sagged to the ground feeling pain no longer. Bob finished the grave and slowly and respectfully lifted the body with his wide front end loader and lowered BamBam into the grave. The ladder was so he could go down and arrange the body. So gentle, so respectful was this gentle act and I was overcome with gratitude.

I have been involved with an Engaging Spirituality Group at church. A 21 week journey into Christian spirituality we have just completed a section on death and resurrection. Here is a quote:

Though tragic, death always arrives to make space for new life. Encounters with death can jog our memory about our interrelatedness to everything in the cosmic, pascal cycle of disintegration and reintegration. From creation to recreation, the mystery of God's presence at life's origins, endings and new beginnings are revealed in our daily dying to life. In this way, paradoxically, death gives rise to hope, for without death's mysterious and definitive interruption, we would have precious little use for hope. " The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of our God." Job 1:21.

BamBam's death makes way for new life. At this moment we do not know what that new life will be at Barrett Farms, a new horse coming to share life with us or this expanded understanding of death and regeneration which a such a natural part of life? What I do know is that this brave fellow creature will always be remembered and loved.

The next morning Ann left with the trailer (pictured above) and with Charlie, our latest equine companion and headed off on a trail ride. It was a new morning.

Interiority

"For what have I come....?"

All of creation, it seems, has been obedient to its destiny, “each mortal thing does one thing and the same . . . myself it speaks and spells, crying, ‘What I do is me, for that I came’” (Gerard Manley Hopkins, ‘As Kingfishers Catch Fire’). Wouldn’t it be our last and greatest humiliation, if we one day realized that all other creatures have obeyed their destiny with a kind of humility and with trustful surrender? All except us. Center for Action and Contemplation, Daily Reflection January 8, 2012

A Mountain

I have always loved watching the Waltons. My Mother said that it was just like her family when she was growing up so I watched it trying to get a glimpse of what life must have been like for her as a girl. Later I have watched it and found such parallels with my personal understanding of ecology. In the episode, The Chicken Thief, Ben writes a poem and gets it published. Here is the poem.

A Winter Mountain

by Benjamin Walton

Our mountain in winter is something to see.

At times it is just like a person to me.

A giant in white all covered with snow.

It changes each day as the heavy winds blow.

And when I am alone and I go for a walk

It’s almost as if that old mountain can talk

It seems to say. “Welcome my winter friend;

I was here in the beginning, I’ll be here at the end.”

In the time when the TV show was written mountains would be there in the end. But in all our wisdom we have found a way to change reality. Mountains are now torn apart, blasted into dust for cheap energy in a mining operation called mountain top mining. More than 450 mountains have been destroyed in Appalachia as a result of this method. Once leveled a mountain cannot really be reclaimed. A lot of the dirt and rock is dumped in the streams which run down through the hollers in Appalachia.

I grew up at the foot of Mill Mountain in Roanoke. It is now a park with a neon star on top; not what you would call a mountain of magnificence. Never the less, Mill Mountain was my playground and it felt like a protector. Last week my granddaughter was visiting and we would go into the back yard and look up at the top watching the star come on. "I just love it here," she said. We both consider our Mill Mountain our friend. I want it to always be here for her.