December 26th

The first thing I saw when I walked into the living room was a glint of tiny gold stars scattered on the rug.  The room was still and empty early in the morning of December 26th--not at all the way it had been the day before.  And there they were--shiny little reminders of the deep joy of a day with family all around.

Santa sprinkles gold stars in at least one little gift that the kids get.  It's part of his magic.  Now that they're grown, the guys usually open carefully, on the lookout for the surprise glitter shower of happy messiness.  But Will's Cecilia is new to the tradition, and so the place on the rug where she sat to open her gifts was still sparkling the next morning.  So was my heart.

Cecilia brings warmth and joy whenever she comes to visit; and when she goes home, a little of it lingers.

She's my role model--she and her sparkly perimeter.

A Christmas Hippy (or Angel)
with ribbon and a glitter star from her Santa gift.

Christmas 2010

Paperwhites I planted before Thanksgiving bloomed right on time.
They guarded the best Jelly Belly mix and some Baby's Breath.

Junior and Senior take a break from a serious Wii Bowling game.

Our new living room was full of Christmas:
the stockings were filled, the tree was lit, and a Wii Bowling match was in progress.

This little mouse couple has been part of our Christmas for 35 years.

Ribbon candy and marshmallows + a ribbon star centerpiece on our table.

Steve sat at the bar and watched Steve Jr. and me 'filet some oranges' on Christmas morning.
He even looked up some YouTube demos to help us out.

Steve Jr., Cecilia, and Will posin!

Happy me.

Our invited guests--the Mario Brothers

Steve (aka Mario) and Will (aka Luigi)

Somebody just fell into some hot 'glava'

Cecilia connected all of us on Skype to her Mom and brother in Brazil.

Will watched Cecilia open her Nativity Set.

Steve's Navy Frogman/Battleship collection--finally under glass.
Boyhood memories of the baking soda frogmen and ships are all captured in shadow boxes.

Cuponk!!
The Backhand Backboard installed.

Opening presents is a blur of fun,
especially when it's a cutting board for the novice chef.

Steve is the BEST sous chef!
He's not mad, he's just about to say "Merry Christmas."

Three of the best gifts a mother could ever enjoy . . .

Hello Good Bye

Hello

Good Bye

September . . . October . . . November . . . December . . .

what a blur!

The last 4 months have been filled with transferring every single thing that Steve & I own from one location to another. After 5 months on the market, we sold our home of 7 years and moved from Washington County, where we've spent the past 15 years of our life. We've moved to a new home and have begun to settle in to a new chapter.

Cardboard boxes have been packed and stacked, moved, stacked and unpacked. Ruthless decisions about what we absolutely need have been a spiritual exercise for me. And thank goodness for OCD! I know there are meds one can take for that, but it sure comes in handy when it's time to sort, organize, store, and reestablish.

I love our new space. We purchased it last Spring, and it felt like home even before we moved our furniture in. I really enjoy hearing the sounds of the neighborhood elementary school playground when I'm outside. Guess I'm a city girl at heart; and yet, last month I stopped to take in the flock of geese that flew overhead. What a wonder. It was our years in the country that taught me the timing and seasons for such amazing displays of God's faithfulness.

We've already celebrated a birthday, Halloween, and Thanksgiving here. We're close enough to family that we delight in "stop by's"--a true luxury for me as Mom. I've enjoyed sewing and laundry with a real washer and dryer!!! Who knew . . .

Obla-di! Obla-da! Life goes on.

God Be with You Till You Meet Again

My cousin Shawn lost her grandson Shane today. Shane's mommy Kylie and daddy Mercer lost their baby boy. Shane's brothers and sisters lost their little brother.

I wanted to share a life story our Grandmother Beatty told about her experience of the death of her never-to-be six year-old son Bobby. In October of 1919 or 1920, 5 year-old Bobby was following his mother's instruction to check on their barking pet when he encountered a stray dog at their front door. It was such a small injury--just one stitch closed his upper lip--and it healed perfectly. After consulting four different doctors, Grandmother took their words of assurance to heart. "Oh, I don't think you have anything to worry about

The move to a new home in a different city one week before Christmas meant packing the belongings of their five children who ranged in age from 8 years to 23 months. The holidays were upon them, with all the excitement of gifts, food, and visits with extended family. Several days after their move, Bobby became nervous and agitated. Two days before Christmas, Grandmother Beatty called the family doctor and he came for a house call. The following is her word-for-word recollection taken from a recorded interview.

[The doctor] walked over in the bathroom and sat on the edge of the
tub and put his head in his hands and he cried. He said, "I can't believe
this. I don't believe this is happening. I've never seen anything
like this." And he had another doctor examine [Bobby] and gave him
tests for meningitis and different things.

So [Bobby] stayed home for . . . oh, I don't know . . . it was one or two
days. Dwight and I took turns holding him and rocking him. I didn't
feel afraid of him. He was normal, except he couldn't go to sleep.
He couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't relax. And I'd say,
"Now, Bobby, I'm going to close my eyes and go to sleep. You see if you
can't rest and go to sleep." And he'd try.

I sang all the songs to him. He'd always gone to Sunday School,
and I always did a great deal of singing; songs like 'Jesus Loves Me'
and 'Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam' and 'Shine Like a Little Candle in
the Night' and all those songs. Finally, after I'd sung everything I knew,
he looked up at me. He said, "Mother, there's one thing you forgot."
I said, "What's that, Bobby?" He said, "Why, it's 'God Be With You Till
We Meet Again." He was composed, but he couldn't relax. See,
rabies destroys the nerve centers. But as long as he was home, he didn't
have any spasms.

Well, the next day then--Dwight held him. He came in about 2 o'clock
[in the morning] and said, "Now, Mother, you go lay down now. Get some
rest. I'll hold him until morning." And while Dwight was holding him, [Bobby] said, "Daddy, a man came to me all dressed in white; and he had a
big book in his hand, and I wrote my name in his book." Now I know that
that child had never heard that from the Bible. They went to the
Prebyterian Sunday School, and they didn't teach that kind of . . .. I
don't know where he ever heard that. But that's what he said
to Dwight.

When the doctor came that morning, he said, "Well, there are going to
be some rough times ahead. We'd better take him to
the hospital."

My father was there. That was the day after Christmas then. My
father was there and I know [Bobby] had some new slippers. They had all
gotten new mocassins for Christmas, and he had a new sweater. He said,
"Oh, Grandpa, don't I look nice?!" See . . . he would have been six on the
second day of February. He was a bright little youngster. He was, I
think, the best looking of any of our children. . . . That was the
last time I saw him then, because they said I couldn't [stay with him in] the
hospital. The next evening he began having convulsions. . . .
Then he finally--succumbed.

But, I don't know. It was such an unusual experience. It left a
print on everybody. [siblings as well as grown-ups]

It was quite an experience, I tell you. Different people said sort of
unusual things to us. They'd say, "Oh well, it isn't so bad. You
have other children." But no child ever takes the place of another
one.

But of course, you go on.

Shane, Kylie & Mercer, Shawn & Mike--God be with you 'till you all meet again.

Grand Mother

Grandmother Beatty






My grandmother--Dad's mother--was a grace-filled, generous, gentle woman.


Born Ruth Otterbein Siffert, she was the youngest of 5 children. Her father--Papa as she called him--William Otterbein Siffert, was called to preach as a young man after serving as a soldier in the Civil War. In addition to homemaker and mother, her Mama--Harriet Corl--was Ott's helpmate in ministry. Ruth spoke lovingly of her Grandmother who lived in the family home through the first four years of Ruth's life. She tells of intimate times when her grandmother would read to her or wrap her warmed shawl around Ruth's tiny feet to warm them at bedtime.


Though Papa and Mama had a very disciplined home, Ruth felt loved. It was there that she learned to play the organ and piano for Sunday and Wednesday prayer services. It was there that she heard the faith stories of her parents which nurtured her loving obedience and abiding faith. It was in her home as well as the pews of the Ohio churches in which her evangelistic father preached that Ruth heard and saw the gospel lived out.


Grandmother Beatty was serious and quick-witted. She was sanguine in nature, yet she appreciated good humor and always framed her speech in a positive way. Beatty offspring have fun! Stories, practical jokes, and clean good humor abound. Her love of crossword puzzles, Solitaire, and Cribbage helped keep Grandmother's mind nimble, as did her study of the Bible. Ruth taught an adult Sunday School class at her church every week for decades.


Grandmother was the wife of Dwight Lowe Beatty and the mother of ten children. One child, Robert, contracted rabies while shooing a stray dog away from his younger brother (my father) Bill. Bobby died when he was six, but not before giving a remarkable gift to his parents. During his last day of consciousness, Bobby told his father that a man in a white robe had shown him a book and he had written his name in it. He also asked his mama, Grandmother Beatty, to sing "God Be With You Till We Meet Again." Remembrances of the powerful activity of God to gently prepare this young couple for the death of their beloved son . . . truly builds my faith.


Family life with the nine surviving children provided Dwight and Ruth with many joys, challenges, and sorrows all woven together. The national financial crisis of 1920 left the Beatty family in great difficulty. One child was born with a profound hearing loss. As the children became adults, loving marriages and the births of dozens of grandchildren were celebrated. One abusive marriage ended in divorce. The death of a son-in-law left a World War 2 widow with a young son. Grown children moved away with grandchildren that she could watch grow up only through pages-long letters, occasional pictures, and perhaps a summer visit to 200 Bellflower Avenue, NW, Canton Ohio.


Ruth's great love, Dwight, succumbed to emphysema after breathing the air of northern Ohio's coal-fueled industry and smoking cigarettes for his adult life. The man who had helped change diapers and had worked to establish a lucrative insurance company to support his family was now breathless and tired. The husband who spent late nights pitting cherries so that his wife could finish canning while their children slept was now exhausted at the least exertion. For years, Ruth had ironed all the family's clothes after the children were in bed, and Dwight had read her stories from The Saturday Evening Post. Now, he rationed his strength and breath to give his wife a great gift as he spoke, "Oh, Ruth, I love you so."



While sitting by his bed, helping administer oxygen to her exhausted husband, Grandmother stitched twelve twin-sized butter-yellow wedding ring quilts--one for each of the dozen granddaughters at that time. I study the scrappy rings of my well-loved quilt, even today, and wonder which of my aunts wore the bright red nautical print or the pastel floral. And I can imagine the hours that Grandmother spent sewing for the children and grandchildren who were blessed to live under her roof and care.



Grandmother's hands were small, but there was strength in her tapered slender fingers. I watched her play hymns on the piano in her home when my family came for summer visits from Texas. There was a mystery about her sweet, soft, squeaky voice as she sang the truths she had learned throughout her life. "Be not dismayed whate'er betide. God will take care of you. Beneath His wings of love abide. God will take care of you."



Grandmother Beatty had clear blue eyes that were quick to tears. With tongue in cheek, I call that trait the "curse of the Beatty Blue Eyes," passed down through the generations; but it's not a curse. It's more like a proud badge of citizenship in the Beatty family. Her tears expressed joy at being reunited with a dear family member. Her tears were quick to flow when a sorrow was shared. Even now, a box of tissue has a central place at family reunions, and is most likely to be used to mop tears brought on by gales of laughter.


Grandmother Beatty wore not one molecule of makeup--not even lipstick. Yet her countenance was radiant. The peace of Christ ruled in her. Her life was rich in gentle grace, generous love, and abiding faith. What a legacy she has left.

I Will Make Known Part 2

I talked about author Linda Dillow's suggested exercise in a previous post. In her study book A Deeper Kind of Calm she asks that the reader spend time with God, asking "Him to bring to mind His deeds, His miracles, His works, and His mighty acts to [the reader] in [her] personal history." Then the reader is to write her "I Remember List." Here's mine:

My Grandmother Beatty--a godly woman whose prayers for her children and
grandchildren made a huge difference in my life

God's guidance and prompting during my pregnancy and healthy delivery of
Steve Jr.

God's overwhelming presence as I read John 15 one day

God's claim on unborn Will through my reading of Psalm 134

God's enabling and strength for both Steve and me to be free from alcohol

Our move to Chappell Hill/Ann & Ken Bevers

First Baptist Church Chappell Hill/Ladies' Bible Studies

May 1998--my recommitment on my knees before the Lord

Steve's cancer diagnosis and treatment--God's direction and miraculous
healing

Mother and Stepfather's last days/God's provision & healing

Father and Stepmother's example of a loving marriage

As the days unfold, I hope to journal about each of these. God has done amazing things!

The Graceful Exit

Thanks to my friend Tracy for this quote. Not my words, but definitely meaningful to me right now.

There's a trick to the Graceful Exit. It begins with the vision to recognize when a job, a life stage, a relationship is over--and to let go. It means leaving what's over without denying its validity or its past importance in our lives. It involves a sense of future, a belief that every exit line is an entry; that we are moving on, rather than out.

. . . recognize that life isn't a holding action, but a process. . . . we don't leave the best parts of ourselves behind . . .. We own what we learned back there. The experiences and the growth are grafted into our lives. And when we exit, we can take ourselves along--quite gracefully.

I Will Make Known

I will remember the deeds of the LORD;

yes, I will remember Your miracles of long ago.

I will meditate on all Your works and consider all Your mighty deeds.

Psalm 77:11-12

Linda Dillow, in her 4-week Bible Study entitled A Deeper Kind of Calm, suggests that it is important to one's spiritual health to remember. Dwelling on God's works and wonders in both world history and personal history is an intentional choice. It's a choice to obey God's repeated command--do not forget . . . remember . . .

So, I choose to begin an "I Remember" list.

Thank You, Father, for this past weekend. Steve & I were able to stay in Houston with my Dad, and You gave us so many reasons to praise You. Today, I 'will make known Your wonders.'

At 91+, Dad is bright and mobile. He works the newspaper's puzzle page every morning--usually by 7 AM! That means he uses his walker to go outside to get the paper, and uses Google to find clues/answers that stump him. This activity and all the daily life he lives are remarkably back-to-normal less than a month after a fall in which he broke both his left foot and his right collar bone. Now that's a God Thing for sure.

I was involved in a subtle tug-of-war with my Dad this weekend. He loves his crossword puzzles like a dog loves a bone. And I enjoy working crossword puzzles too. I was definitely sure that the newspaper puzzle page along with the affixing clipboard and pink mechanical pencil were all off limits. So I dug in the bottom of a basket to find an old crossword puzzle book and began to work. Setting my puzzle down briefly to start another load of laundry, I didn't realize it was up for grabs. So Dad found it, picked it up, and was working on it with great relish the next time I passed through the room with folded towels. I'd lost my bone!

Okay, so I rummaged through the basket again, found yet another untouched puzzle book, and settled in to work the Across and Down clues. This time I took it with me to my bedroom! But Sunday morning when I got up and greeted Dad, he didn't have his clipboard, pencil, puzzle page, little electronic Wordmaster, or either one of his two Crossword puzzle dictionaries in front of him. "I don't do the Sunday puzzle. See--it's too big to fit on my clipboard. I never do the Sunday puzzle," he said. "Okay," I thought, "everyone needs a little Sabbath rest. This must be Dad's day off."

In a minute or so I asked permission to use the clipboard, and Dad said that was fine. I was able to fold the Sunday puzzle in such a way that the whole thing, clues and all, fit on the securing surface of brown chipboard. And I set it on the kitchen counter while preparing Dad's breakfast. Half Cheerios and half Apple Cinnamon Cheerios poured on top of one-half sliced banana and topped with 2 chopped cooked prunes; one slice cinnamon bread buttered and spread with cream cheese, toasted--or should I say warmed--on #3 of the toaster oven; coffee--set up the afternoon before--freshly brewed and poured into the cup (with spoon in it) sitting directly to the left of the pot on the small black rubber square, with sugar.

While the details of the breakfast unfolded, Dad stood at the counter, and with his subtle "Let's see once . . .," began to work. "One Across is 'BEADS' . . . 'Mardi Gras accessories,' and One Down 'Volkswagen type' would be 'BUG.'" After breakfast, he again stood over the puzzle and we worked together on a few clues. I even asked out loud if he wanted to work the puzzle with me, and he thought that was a great idea. "Your Three Across has to be 'SIRE' so my One Down can't be 'BUG,'" he mused. With my suggestion that BUG become BUS, which is definitely a Volkswagen type, we were actually collaborating.

In a few minutes, he took the clipboard with our prized bone attached, down the hall on the seat of his walker. "I need to Google a couple of these," he said as he sailed past.

In about thirty minutes, he emerged from his little office beaming, handed me the clipboard, and announced, "I finished the puzzle!" I was shocked. "Wow, Dad, how did you work it that fast?!" In his best calm, meek voice, he explained, "The LA Times website has the completed puzzle, and I just looked it up and filled it in!" He was so proud of it that I could only be slightly miffed. "You fink!" I said with a smile and a hug. Good job, Dad.

The point is, this dear man--who, Lord willing, will be 92 in three months--is vital of mind and body. Sure, he needs help with "activities of daily living." Grooming and dressing, complete with compression hose are a two-man chore each morning. Though laundry, driving, shopping, and cooking are Alma's jobs, Dad steps up as much as his arthritic hands and hips allow. He empties the dishwasher, collects the mail, pays the bills and checks online for balanced bank account totals, plays board games with visiting grandchildren, programs his taped television shows, Skypes his great grand daughters in Brussels, and loves his wife and family with teary blue eyes.

And he wins 3-0 at Tug-of-War too. Praise God!

"a 5 followed by 5 zeros"

God has provided an amazing gift for our little church. In my last post of July 15th, I said that the foundation had been poured for the Phase One multi-purpose building. Exciting, to say the least. Next step--wait for $500,000 to be donated in order to purchase and erect the steel building and 'dry in' the structure.

What took us 5 years and an intensive fund raising campaign to accomplish, God has duplicated in one day. An anonymous donor has given a check which our Pastor reported has "a 5 followed by 5 zeros." Our Hallelujah Goal . . . !! God is seldom early, and never late.

The most tender part of this for me is that Steve and I actually bowed together, and he prayed. Hearing my man talk to our God is something I'll treasure in my heart forever. Some gifts are worth far more than half a million dollars.

how firm a foundation

This morning when I looked out our front windows I could see the boom that's used to deliver concrete on a pour site. The site is First Baptist Church Chappell Hill's new multipurpose building about 1/4 mile south of our house. It's a sign that I wasn't sure I'd ever see. What a thrill!

See, over the last 10 of the 15 years that we've been here, Steve & I have been dreaming--along with others in the church--of a facility that could serve the community more fully. After a master planner volunteered to map out the entire 16-acre site for phased development, a 3-year fund-raising campaign was completed. Steve and the planning team found an architect to develop the drawings for a Phase 1 multipurpose building. The team has met, discussed, researched, followed through, developed a budget, communicated. Mostly, we've prayed.

And now, after 10 years, this day has come.

I wish I could say that the road was clear and smooth to this destination. But it has been bumpy at best. I made mistakes, and lots of them. Often my patience wore so thin; my judgemental attitudes threatened to tear holes in the weakened fabric of my faith. Some discussions with nay-sayers reduced me to tears. I grieved that disagreements turned to murmuring discord. Some people pulled up stakes and left. I often sat in planning meetings with the question plastered in bold capital font across my mind: how can we possibly accomplish this?! The task loomed very large indeed. Then the Lord would remind me that it was His job to accomplish--not mine.

And so, along with red iron, electrical lines, and plumbing pipes, there is joy and hope and gratitude in this foundation. Joy for a 'concrete' statement of the intent to move forward. Hope for what God will do with the dream that I believe God has given the leaders of this little country church. And gratitude to my Lord God, Who gently teaches me that He is my firm foundation.

Vacation Bible School

Vacation Bible School is so much fun.

I get to work behind the scenes, helping get the kids registered and in the right group; counting noses to report to crafters and snack providers; general go'fer things.

One year I met the preschool teacher in the hall every time I turned around. She had a little guy in her room who needed Mama, so we passed tissues and damp rags to cool his weepy eyes. I called home while holding him and petting his sweet little red head. There was also the chunky pre-teen fella' who got a 'stomach ache' conveniently every day at recreation time. We sat in a cool room (where his 'stomach ache' usually subsided enough to have at least one or two helpings of whatever snack was available) and he told me the most amazing scientific facts about germs. If it were possible, I think he'd be a doctor by age 18. I do love being with the kids. Last year one girl asked me, with both words and her huge brown eyes, to pray for her big sister who was serving in the Army in Iraq.

All the VBS songs have lots of arm movements and are very aerobic in nature. Of course, being a Baptist event, there's no dancing; but almost. Oh, and here's a head's-up: when the recreation leader needs dice to designate a number 1 through 6, it's called a "numbered cube!"

VBS is so much fun! It's like being thrown in a huge jar and shaken around for 4 hours. After "Toady's Wild Ride" each morning this week, I'll have a lot to look forward to: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a glass of milk; a nap in the sheer luxury of a quiet, cool room; and getting up tomorrow morning to do it again.

new to facebook

When I joined FaceBook, I noticed pretty quickly that I had entered a new culture. I needed some help, and so I turned by email to my sons, my niece and nephew for advice:

To My Closest Advisors

I am in a FaceBook Fog.

Since I'm new to FB, I have some burning questions.

1. I received at least a dozen email notices that "Stephen Bingham has tagged a photo on your FaceBook page." What does that mean? Is it like Freeze Tag? Am I IT? Is that a good thing? Am I supposed to do something? Please advise.
2. The Comment Box: is there FB etiquette for comments? (how do you spell etiquette . . .?) Okay--manners! Is a one-line comment the best thing (i.e. cool)? Can I jump into another comment stream, or is that considered rudely interrupting another conversation? If only one-liners are cool, is there a place on FB for longer conversations, or do we just resort to good ol' email?
3. These Relative designations: how far away from the gene pool do you go? For example, what to do about husband's sister's husband's children by first wife?! Will they feel snubbed if I don't identify them as relatives; or will they feel like I've overstepped my boundaries by claiming them related?

Who knew there would be such sensitive issues to overcome on a public forum for mundane introspection . . .!

Please give me advice on these issues before I embarrass someone who I really am related to and get shunned by a host of new "Friends." :~z

I know I can trust all of you to give me the straight skinny.

Much love--Mom/AuntS

the turn of a phrase

Loving words the way I do, I chose "By the Way" as my blog title. The phrase turns as I say it or think about it.

Of course, there's the colloquial statement, "Oh, by the way, here's something that might interest you." Just incidental stuff. btw.

Then there's the facet: "Reflecting as I pause by the way on this life journey, let me share an event, story, or memory." I hope to document my path--both past and present.

Turn the words another degree or two and discover yet another meaning. Jesus said, "I am the Way, the Truth, the Life." Though I stumble a lot, I desire to live by the Way--that is, according to the habits and life of my Lord. And so, this blog will be a spiritual journal as well.

"Show me the road I must travel for You [God] to relieve my heart." Psalm 143:8b