Back Porch Break

What I’ve Learned…So Far

May 15, 2020 by Nancy 23 Comments

See the missing piece? They are sending a new puzzle.

I know we will soon be deluged with articles listing things we’ve learned from being quarantined or sheltered-in-place because of the coronavirus, so I figured I’d get mine out early! They will be like those annoying lists of bests and worsts at the end of the year. Less is more.

But I have learned a few things, and I’m assuming you have also:

•To open those plastic produce bags at the grocery without licking your finger under your mask, use a small spritz of hand sanitizer from your purse.
•Don’t wear hoop earrings with your mask. The elastic bands get all tangled with the hoops and you might lose one. Studs work better.
•Jigsaw puzzles are way more fun, and way more addicting, than I knew.
•A shelter-in-place order can substitute for years of marriage counseling to find out if you married the right person. Gratefully, I did.
•Laughing until you pee your pants works better when close to your own bathroom. This can happen at any moment.
•Watching too much TV, streaming, etc., can give you a headache!
•Never take going out to dinner, or even sitting in a movie theater eating popcorn and sipping on a soda, for granted.
•Take-out meals never taste quite as good as they did in the restaurant.
•There’s no end to the creativity crisis can inspire in people! Such amazing videos of Rube Goldberg gadgetry, pet tricks, songfests, funny memes, etc. My favorite? “I’ve washed my hands so much I just found the answers to my 7th grade history test!”
•ZOOMing is just like Hollywood Squares and can be more fun unless you try to sing Happy Birthday all at once. Don’t try that. It doesn’t work!
•A little Covid-19 news, complete with maps and charts, goes a long way. If you wake up and don’t feel sick, have a cup of coffee, take a walk, wave at a neighbor, and find something productive to do with your day.

Most important, NONE of the above matters. We are blessed if we are sheltering-in-place in a home of our choosing with running water and plenty of toilet paper! Touch of Love International is helping those less fortunate in other countries. Visit here if you’d like to contribute to their Covid-19 Relief Fund. And remember to say your prayers. God’s got this.

While in Exile

March 18, 2020 by Nancy 24 Comments

So I’ve just sorted through several small baskets of toiletries stashed on bathroom shelves and under the sink searching for any hand sanitizer I might have squirreled away. I didn’t find any, but if you’re in need of any dried up, odd shades of lipstick, I’m your girl!

One thing we all have in common right now, other than searching for hand sanitizer, is how to react to this period of exile. I’ve read perspectives on the coronavirus and its effect on “life as we knew it” from the deeply spiritual to the very humorous. There is no shortage of advice on this serious situation. (Which didn’t stop me from sharing my own, you’re thinking!)

As much as I’ve appreciated and shared all the spiritual insights and guidance (DO read Psalm 91), I’ve noticed that the humor helps, too. One person posted on Facebook, “I have to wonder if all this is happening because I didn’t forward that message to 10 people.” Another post read, “The babies born nine months from now will be known as the Coronial Generation.”

And it seems as if this unprecedented period is bringing out our true personality types. One of the funnier things I read is that when the CDC says for us to avoid large crowds, stay six feet apart, and stay home as much as possible, the introvert thinks, “I’ve waited my whole life for this!” It’s the more extroverted types who may hyperventilate upon hearing that restaurants, gyms, movie theaters, concert venues, amusement parks and churches are all closed.

Yet maybe those most unsettled by this found time are the procrastinators among us. The ones who say at least once a day, “I should (fill in the blank) but I’m too busy.” Hello! Now’s the time. (Unless you are suddenly homeschooling children while working from home. You may just want to stop reading now because you don’t have extra time!)

Yes, each of us has to decide on his or her own how to approach this indefinite pause in life as planned—and how to make the best use of our unexpected down time. That may begin by thinking of it as a gift. With that in mind, let me offer some suggestions for things to do that you may have always wanted to do anyway:
• Call an old friend you haven’t talked to in years and just hang out on the phone.
• Clean like a fiend. Spring cleaning on steroids. Get the family involved.
• Organize photos on the computer or wherever you’ve stashed them.
• Look at gardening catalogs and get a jump on an award-winning garden!
• Have your bored kids wash their hands and write notes or draw pictures to drop off at a cloistered assisted living facility near you.
• If you have the ingredients, make a recipe you haven’t had time to make lately. (I made a banana pudding I haven’t made in 30 years!)
• Tackle that home improvement project! Or just find the paint and touch up the base boards.
• Remember board games, charades, and gin rummy? Even empty nester couples can benefit from shutting off screens and playing games together. And doing so could totally rejuvenate families.
• Go through your bookshelves to find those books you bought because you really wanted to read them and line them up in order of anticipation.
• We can still go outside, so take long walks. Drop surprise items on neighbors’ front porches. Sing from your balcony as they are doing in Italy!
• And to all the serious creative types among us—just do it! Finish the book. Get out the paints and the palette. Stitch the quilt. Slap the clay on the wheel. Create.

Some day in the hopefully not too distant future we will be able to look back on these weeks and see how they bonded us, refocused us on what matters most, and even restored us. Occasionally God allows something into each of our lives that causes us to “unplug” for a while. This feels more like a total power outage. But IF we are blessed to remain in good health, let’s not waste this gift of time by whining over all we can’t do. Let’s get on with what we can. Let’s listen to the still, quiet voice of God saying, “This time will be a gift to you, should you choose to accept it as such.”

Friendships and “Furships”

February 26, 2020 by Nancy 20 Comments

How would we get through life without our friends—or the fur friends we love so much? This has been a sad and silent week in our home. We had to say goodbye to our sweet cat, Molly, last week. I never realized how much her meows—with different intonations for each communication—had become such a part of the soundtrack of our lives for the past 16 years until they were gone. The silence is deafening.

Her physical absence is agonizing, too. She’s not by the door asking to go out on the deck. She’s not getting me up to feed her, or sitting on my lap early in the morning as I have my quiet time. (I’ve actually had to set an alarm this week.) She’s not sidling up to my husband Jim for some extra pats in front of the fire, or jumping from his lap to mine and back again as the three of us settle in to watch TV in the evening. She’s simply not here. And we miss our fur friend.

This is when the human friendships we have mean more than ever, however! Those friends with pets, or who have been loved by pets in the past, truly know the pain of losing a fur friend who was part of the rhythm of daily life. The first day Molly was gone a neighbor stopped by with a card, a bottle of wine, and the time to just sit and talk about Molly for a bit. A true friend.

Messages from friends on Facebook were so kind: “My heart breaks for you.” “She was such a sweet kitty.” “I’m so very sorry for your loss.” Please know that I know losing a pet doesn’t compare to losing a sibling, a parent, or a spouse. But it is a loss nonetheless, and it’s so sweet when friends come alongside to acknowledge it. A friend from afar texted, “Many, many of my best friends have had fur, and many of my best memories are of them. I’m sorry you have lost your friend. You’ll have your memories forever.” So true.

Pet therapy from my friend Beth's collie, Maisie, and her fur friend Duchess. — Pet therapy from my friend Beth’s collie, Maisie, and her fur friend Duchess.

The long phone calls that included laughter, the notes and cards that came in the mail, the friend who invited me over for some sympathy licks from her dog, all of it helped this week. And all of it underscored the fact that we need one another.

It didn’t surprise me to read that a new book by science journalist Lydia Denworth, Friendship: The Evolution, Biology, and Extraordinary Power of Life’s Fundamental Bond, includes research proving that friendship is not only good for our emotional health but for our physical health as well. Bottom line: People with at least one good friend tend to live longer, happier lives. No surprise, but good to have the scientific confirmation.

So cherish your human friends and your fur friends—nurture your friendships and your “furships.” Give of yourself generously, and you will be so very blessed in return.

My Bird of “Pray”

January 20, 2020 by Nancy 12 Comments

It’s been fun to receive suggestions on Facebook from friends trying to help me identify this majestic bird of prey that visited me early last Tuesday morning. Best guesses are that he is a young Cooper’s Hawk or a Red Tail Hawk, but one friend suggested clearly he was a falcon who flew over from the Air Force Academy nearby (Go Falcons!) Some bird-minded friends even turned to their guide books and posted photos to substantiate their guesses. I am still not sure exactly what species of bird he is, but I know he is magnificent—and that he brought me a message.

I have a real-life, not Facebook, friend who believes that whenever she sees a bird of prey soaring overhead or perched in a tree nearby it’s bringing her a message from God. I guess I thought of this as just a harmless, sweet sentiment that I indulged until it happened to me in 2008. It was soon after my mother passed away and I was driving to the San Luis Valley to visit family. “Lord,” I prayed, “I trust my mom is with you, but I miss her so much. I just wish you could send me a sign that all is well with her.”

I was listening to Alan Jackson’s CD of his mom’s favorite hymns at top volume as I drove. Just as I reached the crest of La Veta Pass, “I’ll Fly Away” came on—the song we sang at my mother’s graveside. I looked to my right, and a hawk seemed to have caught the draft of my car and was gliding right beside me for what seemed to be 10 seconds or more. As I looked at him he turned his head to look at me through the passenger side window. I had my sign.

And then there was last week. I had just finished my quiet time that morning with a time of prayer that concluded with an earnest request for God’s help. I opened my eyes, lifted my head, looked out onto our deck, and there this remarkable bird sat, turning his head almost upside down quizzically as he gazed back at me.

You see, I’ve been working for months on completing volume two of my devotional guide for seniors, The Hope of Glory. I write one lesson a week and take it to class with a group of ladies in assisted living on Wednesday morning. The ladies help me tweak the lesson and the interactive questions included. In this way each lesson is “field tested” before final inclusion in the book.

Like many self-directed writers, I work best with a writing schedule. I only have 15 of the 57 lessons needed for the book left to go, so my plan was to fill out the schedule with all the remaining topics as my blueprint for finishing the job—but I couldn’t come up with any. I was stymied. So in my prayer time I asked God, the Creator of all, to please give me His ideas on what I should be writing about, and by the way, to please help me finish the lesson I was working on for the next day, appropriately titled “God is Enough.”

God did help me finish the lesson last week, but none too soon. I told myself that if I wasn’t happy with it by 8:15 the next morning, the time I needed to hop in the shower in order to get to class on time, I would just use a lesson from the first book instead. I successfully wrapped it up at 8:14. God loves to have fun with deadlines!

It was after class that day that I began to realize that my bird of prey had really been a bird of “pray!” I was sitting at a stoplight on my way home, thinking about nothing in particular, when I clearly heard the message deep in my spirit: “Fan the Flame.” That brought to mind a verse in 2 Timothy 1:6-7—For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline. I knew I had the topic for the next lesson.

To be very clear, I worship the Creator, not Creation, but I do believe He can use His creation to speak to us. The bird, the writing schedule, the lesson for that day, the new topic suggestion, suddenly I was able to connect them all into one strong message. God was letting me know, “Yes, I am going to help you finish this book, but you will have to be totally dependent on me. And by the way, I am not going to fill out your writing schedule in advance. I will give you each topic week-by-week, and we will finish it together on my timetable, not yours.”

Thank you for this encouraging message, Lord, and thank you for sending your majestic creature to deliver it to me.

Grateful for Snow Memories

November 23, 2019 by Nancy 21 Comments

First day we both skied free--March '17. — First day we both skied free–March ’17.

I miss the smell of snow skiing. I know that sounds strange but moist, snow-covered evergreen trees under a sunny sky emit a wonderful aroma nothing like those cardboard pine-scented car fresheners. On your first ride up the lift that fresh smell fills your senses, and you’re off!

We gave up snow skiing almost two years ago by choice. I planned my 70th birthday around skiing for free at Monarch Mountain, surrounded by as much of our family as we could gather. I was crying when I popped my bindings off for the last time, but I knew it was right.

I had made a conscious decision that I wanted a healthy old age that allowed me to take long walks, travel, go to Zumba class, and spend time keeping and playing with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It was no longer worth it to me to risk being wiped out by a 300-pound Bubba from Oklahoma who decided to try snowboarding for the first time! God love his sense of adventure, but I’m staying out of his way.

To be truthful, I was a “fair weather” skier anyway. More than once my husband and I got out of the car at a ski area where the wind was blowing so hard we could barely open the car doors, thought “no thanks,” went to breakfast and drove back home. We preferred fresh snow, bright sun, and temperatures at or above freezing, so a couple of days of March skiing were enough for us. But oh, the memories of skiing over the years.

Last ski day! Jan. '18. — Last ski day! Jan. ’18.

I first skied at age 22 by default while living in Germany. My then husband convinced me to ride the lift up to the top of the Zugspitze in Garmisch because the views were fantastic! Somehow I got down that day, praying all the way that my five-month-old baby boy wouldn’t have to grow up without a momma. Eventually I took lessons from an Austrian ski instructor whose only English was, “Bend zee knees, UP!” That was enough information to keep me happily cruising the blue, intermediate slopes safely for 48 years.

But the time on the slopes is just part of my bank of snow memories! How I remember two little rosy-cheeked boys in zip-up snowsuits struggling to carry their skis through the parking lot because it was time to “hit the slops” as one liked to say! I remember returning to ski condos with a real fire crackling in the fireplace and the smell of chili in the crockpot. I remember hot tubs with family and friends, hot mulled wine, and a lot of board games.

I know there are more snow memories for my husband Jim and me to make in the future. Maybe we’ll take up cross-country skiing again, or try snow shoeing. Maybe we’ll tag along on a family ski trip and just enjoy stoking the fire and stirring the chili while everyone else walks around with bowling balls on their feet and tries to keep their fingers and toes from freezing.

It will happen because the snow still calls to me. This morning the sun came out after a healthy dump of snow over the last two days, and something in my soul said “ski day!” Several Colorado resorts are already open before Thanksgiving so it should be a great season. But this morning, it was enough for me to wake up my husband and convince him to take an early morning drive to a diner for breakfast. Feeling the fresh snow crunching under my feet as we walked in made me happy, as did the hot coffee and scrambled eggs. Of course our view of the snow-covered mountain range against the blue Colorado sky was more than worth our travel over frosty streets.

I’m grateful for all my snow memories. Those in the past and those still to be made! Hope you also find something for which to be grateful this Thanksgiving. When we look for them, blessings abound.

Are You a Season Clinger?

October 28, 2019 by Nancy 10 Comments

You know us when you see us. Those of us who can’t quite let go of the season we are losing to fully embrace the one that is coming. Especially when it means letting go of summer to embrace fall or fall to embrace winter.

We’re the ones in the grocery store in a turtleneck, a vest, shorts and sandals. We’re the ones who keep bringing in our outdoor potted plants every night to protect them from below freezing temperatures because we just know warm days will return. And we’re the ones who leave our hummingbird feeders up until the nectar’s been frozen for several days in a row.

In our defense, however, it’s easy to understand why Colorado residents might be clinging to summer and fall both this year. Summer temperatures and blossoms were late in arriving, and an early frost cheated us of the beautiful showing of fall leaves on trees at lower elevations.

When I left for a trip, the red maple behind our house was just beginning to show tinges of red around the edges of each leaf. I came back a week later excited to see it flaming red as in years past, but no. All the leaves had already turned brown and were blowing away with each wind. “Wait!” I wanted to scream. “You haven’t turned bright red yet!”

In the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, however, the author Solomon reminds us that: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Reading through his reminders of such things as a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to weep and a time to mourn and on and on, I realize it could be time to let go of fall and embrace winter.

What does this mean? It’s time to switch summer T-shirts and sundresses for sweaters and corduroy pants in our closets. It’s time to detach the hose, prune the perennials, empty the pots and store them. It’s time to dig out the boots, the mittens and scarves and fill the hall closet with warm winter coats.

Solomon goes on to write that God has made everything beautiful in its time (Ecclesiastes 3:11). The pot of impatiens I couldn’t bring myself to sacrifice is almost as beautiful in the house as it was on the front porch in July, and I only have to look outside my window this morning to remember that the coming winter season will have beauty all its own. Okay, God, I surrender. You’re telling me it’s time to let go and move on, so I will. As always, I trust Your timing.

What’s So August About August?

August 28, 2019 by Nancy 18 Comments

To describe someone or something as august means you believe the person or event to have great importance, inspire reverence or admiration, or be worthy of respect. The long list of synonyms for august includes: distinguished, eminent, venerable, hallowed, illustrious, acclaimed, esteemed, impressive, magnificent, majestic, and lordly. Whew!

So why is the eighth month of the year called August? Evidently the Roman Senate changed the name of this month in an attempt to curry favor with Caesar Augustus, who completed the calendar reforms begun by Julius Caesar.

But does this last full month of summer merit its moniker? What’s so august about August? How does it inspire reverence or admiration? Oh, let me count the ways!

First of all, August is the month when summer reaches its fullness. It’s the month when the Black-eyed Susans, Colorado’s “lilies of the field,” flourish on the roadsides and spring up in the most unexpected places. In fact, it’s the month when beauty abounds.

Sweet little peach Andie gets ready to sample a Palisade peach! — Sweet peach Andie with a Palisade peach!

Recently we were invited to the home of friends who live in the Black Forest area of Colorado Springs in a wonderful log home surrounded by evergreen trees and lovely woodland gardens. As I gazed at their planters overflowing with blossoms of every color, and heard and watched the hummingbirds cavorting around their feeders, I breathed in the balmy evening air and thought, “Now this is summer. This is August.” Definitely a moment of reverence and admiration.

August is also the month of harvest. The month when we can find rows and rows of colorful, fresh produce at the farmers’ markets instead of just the vendors with their homemade soaps and honeys. In Colorado, August is the month we finally get to feast on Olathe sweet corn, juicy Palisade peaches, and Rocky Ford cantaloupe. All venerably acclaimed for their delicious, rich flavors. One might even describe the first taste of each as magnificent!

Liam and Peter in 2013. — Liam and Peter years ago!

And then there are all the darling “back to school” photos on Facebook and Instagram. Are those moments captured of great importance? Oh yes. How distinguished the children look in their new school clothes, toting backpacks with zippers that work. The hope that shines on those little faces that this year they will find a place to sit at lunch, make a new friend, like their teacher, and get to the bus on time, is hallowed for sure. And the loud, collective sigh of relief from all the parents once school is back in session could surely be described as impressive! Even those of us who remember when school didn’t start until after Labor Day have to admit that an important event like starting a new school year fits nicely in a month called August.

So we revere and respect you, August. We even dub you lordly because only the Lord who is the Creator of all could give us such an illustrious month! Come back next year, OK?

The Wonders of Wildlife

July 29, 2019 by Nancy 14 Comments

My husband and I just returned from an anniversary trip to Banff National Park in Canada. As much as we loved seeing the massive Canadian Rockies, the crystal clear blue lakes and charming old hotels, it was the wildlife that made the trip extra memorable.

What is it about sighting wildlife that gives us such a thrill? Maybe it’s because each encounter is so unexpected. Also because it’s nothing that can be planned. No matter how many tourists ask the park rangers, “What time do you let the animals out?” that’s not how it works, folks. No travel agent can guarantee a wildlife sighting either. It’s the very serendipitous nature of it that makes it seem like such a joyful gift.

On our drive down Sunshine Mountain from the high vista lodge where we stayed for two nights, we were surprised to round a corner and see a mountain goat staring at us from the side of the road. “So, you folks are checking out,” he seemed to be saying. “Hope you enjoyed your stay. Come back and see us, eh?” No doubt he knew we were tourists by our rental car with the Alberta license plates.

A day or so later we were driving from one mountain lake to another when we came upon a bear seriously going about searching for the thousands of berries he needs to sustain himself. Unlike the goat, he didn’t seem to give us any mind at all. Canada is having a late summer this year, so it’s possible he just came out of hibernation. Food was his biggest priority and we were too encapsulated in steel to be enticing.

We also saw a herd of elk from a distance, and though we didn’t spot a moose, we had such a good sighting of one outside of Jackson Hole last year that we didn’t feel at all deprived. When Jim shared a bit of his lunch at a café near Lake Moraine with a chipmunk, he delighted a family with children nearby. We are certainly hoping the fine we saw posted later for feeding wildlife doesn’t apply to chipmunks!

I have a friend who sees every sighting of a hawk as a special message and gift from God. If she sees a bald eagle, she feels blessed beyond belief! We are all blessed to share this earth with God’s marvelous creatures, and when our paths cross unexpectedly, my gratitude abounds.

Grand Ol’ Flag

July 4, 2019 by Nancy 12 Comments

All the recent controversy about people dishonoring our flag reminded me of an old Gazette column I’d like to share again. Long may she wave! And Happy 4th of July weekend!

One of the best parts of celebrating the Fourth of July is seeing so many grand ol’ flags on display. In store windows, on car antennas, or lining parade routes in all the small towns of our memories, the Stars and Stripes say America like nothing else can.

I inherited my love for the flag from my dad, although I’m not sure I remembered to tell him I had finally caught his passion while he was still alive.

It used to irritate me that he loved flags so much. Whenever our family visited a new city or national park, my dad would want us to pose for pictures at the base of a flagpole. To get the whole flag into the picture, he’d have to move to the other side of the street with the camera, so we have lots of vacation shots with my sisters and me barely discernible as we rallied ‘round the flagpole for dear old dad. In the 8-millimeter home movies, we’re trying madly to out-wave the flag, along with occasionally pinching or shoving one another, but you have to look closely to see who’s who because the flag is still the star.

I think my dad was born a patriot. He was proud to be able to trace his roots back to the American Revolution, and although he served in the FBI instead of a branch of the military during World War II, he staunchly defended his country and its flag at every opportunity.

Fran and Amanda, now all grown up, with the cake they made!

I’m not sure when the flag took on so much meaning for me, but living on foreign soil, then sending a young (first) husband off to Vietnam, had a lot to do with it. To this day, I can’t get through the national anthem at a football game without tearing up as I focus on the unfurled flag.

The flag I put out on national holidays year after year, home after home, was a gift from my dad. A few years ago it began to show signs of so much time in the Colorado wind, so I retired it to a corner of the hall closet and got a brand new one.

In addition to flying the flag, I usually make a flag cake with blueberry stars and strawberry stripes each 4th of July, along with homemade ice cream of course. And we even had a cat named for Betsy Ross because she was discovered abandoned on the Fourth of July.

But like old friends, old flags are best.

My second son, Tim, was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Reserve by his dad. The ceremony was held on our back deck with all of our blended family seated in rows of chairs as the audience. Tim’s two small nieces and half-brother waved little flags in celebration. Draped from the deck railing behind him, as he raised his right hand and promised to defend the Constitution of the United States, was the tattered old flag he and his brother helped me display so many times throughout their growing-up years.

I know my dad was proud.

The Balls of Summer

June 28, 2019 by Nancy 8 Comments

My husband and I were relaxing by a pool on a recent trip to Tucson, AZ, when a beach ball caught our eye. It wasn’t the bright colors that drew our attention, however, nor even the joyful way the breeze caught the ball, causing it to bounce merrily past our chairs. We retrieved it to examine because we noticed a giant caution warning, printed on one whole panel, which was too obtrusive to ignore.

What we read astounded us. First, in very large letters, was the warning: “Use Only under Competent Supervision.” Do you suppose some people would prefer incompetent supervision instead? And then, in several different languages was printed a warning, along with all the licensing information, admonishing us not to stand on the beach ball. To make their point even clearer, the manufacturers drew a sketch of a foot on a beach ball with the international symbol for “don’t do this!”

You know what I’m going to say. We both became nostalgic for all the summers of our youth when people knew just how much supervision children needed, and knew not to stand on beach balls. If you did try to stand on one, you didn’t do it twice! That’s how we learned in the “good ol’ days!”

This whole experience started me thinking about all the balls of summer. Foremost, of course, is the baseball and how stadiums across the country this summer will be full of fans wiping hot dog mustard off their faces and waiting for their favorite batters to hit one over the fence! These same people will be whistling “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” on the way to their cars.

Golf balls are most prevalent in summer, too, as they land on greens, sink into holes, or find their way to nearby sand traps, bodies of water, and neighboring lawns. An older woman in Florida claims that she hit a low ball over a body of water and an alligator jumped up and swallowed it! She messaged a golf site asking how she should score that shot.

I hope there still will be plenty of kick balls around this summer, too. My sisters and I played that game barefooted every day in the summer until it began to get dark and we ran home for supper. Soccer balls, bocce balls and juicy, delicious watermelon balls will no doubt appear at many picnics and family reunions, too. It’s summer, folks. Use competent supervision as necessary, but have a ball!