"When I'm 64..." - 2009 - Archive-Diving

And here is one more from the deep pit of 2009 -- a post written on my birthday that year.

Well, in 95 minutes, I will be.

Who woulda thunk it? 
How is it possible to feel every age I've ever been - but this one, least of all?

At some points, my 14-year-old self is just inside my skin - especially when I feel naive, gullible, misled.

At other points, my feisty, unnecessarily self-confident 22-year-old self pops up and surprises me with her strong opinions and readiness to express them.

There are even those rare moments when a tall-for-her-age 5-year-old shows up, filled with joie-de-vivre whenever the sun is shining and the water is clear.

Sadly, the 64-year-old shows up when I have to stand up after sitting a while, or climb stairs that are uneven, or try to read the really fine print. 

 And yet...there is something to be said for age. Not much, but....something.

Perhaps the best thing is that every age I have ever been is still available to me at a moment's notice, that what I've learned at each of those ages is usually pretty close to the surface when needed, that I know that the reservoirs of love, affection, commitment developed over a lifetime are deeper than I could have imagined at 5, 14, 22 or even 45.

I am deeply grateful that my partner of 43 years still chooses to love me, 'when I'm 64.'

And overall, life has been good; through it all, God is good.

My restless, often rebellious nature can still trip me up from time to time, but one good thing about 64 is that I have learned to be just a little bit more patient with those parts of myself, sometimes even grateful for them.

Restlessness can lead to dissatisfaction with the status quo and a willingness to make changes when needed.

Even rebelliousness has its plusses, for asking questions about seemingly foregone conclusions can keep the fires of curiosity burning. And I never did believe it killed the cat!

Happy Birthday to me. I am glad I was born, I am grateful for my life, I hope it lasts a while longer.

Milestones... Archive-Diving, June 2009

Reflections on our eldest grandson's graduation from high school - now THREE years ago. 

Well, it's here. We are officially OLD. No matter that we started 'young,' having babies in our early 20's and grandchildren in our mid-40's. Because now, we have a high school graduate. Yes, our eldest grandson, Ben - age 18, a generous, kind, smart, talented and funny young man - has graduated from Oaks Christian High School. Wow. And weird. 

I distinctly remember, like it was yesterday, the anxious early morning phone call: "Come NOW, Mom. My water broke!" Driving to the Burbank airport to catch a nearly empty flight to Oakland, landing in the densest fog I've ever seen, hitching a ride from complete strangers to get to Lisa and Mark's little house on Abbey Street in Pleasanton where I could pick up my own car, left there two weeks before, and driving to the hospital. Where Ben decided not to come, thank you very much, requiring an emergency c-section and then weighing in at 10# 5 oz. Started setting those milestones early!

He was an absolutely fearless toddler and little boy, climbing everything, jumping from dizzying heights, constructing fabulous inventions, painting early masters, figuring out how things worked. Towheaded to a blinding blonde color, blazing blue eyes, energy out his fingertips - he was a wonder to us all. Our first grandchild - nothing short of a miracle.

He grew up in much the same way he began - fearless, inquisitive, capable of amazing technical expertise and with a wonderful artistic eye. When he was 13, he showed interest and ability in photography. So I gave him my original SLR film camera when I bought my first digital.

Immediately, he figured out more things to do with that camera than I ever dreamed about. The kid had talent - real talent. And the school he chose to go to aided and abetted that talent in a big way.

Oaks Christian is an anomaly in education - a huge endowment from an invested grandparent created a magnificent campus, drew gifted administration and faculty members, and made possible absolutely top of the line technical resources. And all of it anchored in solid commitment to discipleship, commitment and mission.

Ben took every class that was offered in both photography and videography, successfully mastering every challenge. His work won first place in multiple shows and he was in demand as the videographer of choice for most of the faculty, from football coaches to dance instructors. He did good! Real good. And we are all so very proud of him.

A tableau of graduation accoutrementes -(clockwise)

robe & stole, fabulous $$ lei made by Ben's other grandmother, the senior award certificate, diploma and medallion (well the ribbon shows, at least.)

His graduation ceremony was last Thursday afternoon and I drove down to Westlake early in the day to help Lisa with flowers and errand-running. She, as usual, had everything organized to a fare-thee-well, having accomplished both a new roof and a complete re-landscaping of their backyard in preparation for this momentous day. It was a day rich with deep emotion as Mark's presence was strongly felt through every moment of it. And how grateful I am that Mark was able to participate as fully as he did in his sons' lives right up until the day he died last fall! He is, I am sure, so proud of these remarkable young men.

Family came from all around southern CA to attend the ceremonies and/or the wonderful dinner party Lisa hosted afterwards. Lisa and Joel, her youngest, held onto 3 rows of seats (Luke, grandson #2, was playing clarinet in the orchestra) and was soon joined by one great-grandmother, a great-uncle, two great-aunts, two sets of grandparents, two cousins on Mark's side, an uncle, two aunts and two cousins on Lisa's side - and those 3 rows filled right up! It was a great ceremony! Good speakers, a suitably (and intimidatingly!) impressive valedictory address and a lovely setting.

The big surprise, that hit us all in our communal solar plexus, was that Ben was one of 5 seniors honored with a special award! We knew that he had won the departmental award in art the previous week, but this one was completely unexpected. The 3 'prongs' of an Oaks education are: Leadership, Athletics, and the Arts - and Ben received the medallion and certificate in the Arts.

It was just so lovely to hear the tribute offered by the head of the department, based on the comments of all Ben's teachers and on Ben's own fine work and many contributions to the school through his technical and artistic gifts. He proudly wore the medallion for the picture above and it's inscription is shown in the one below. The actual introduction is printed in italics below the picture. It was written by Ryan Kelley, Chair of the Arts Department at Oaks.

The recipient of the Dallas Price Van Breda Fine Arts Award is a wonderfully talented visual artist. This fine young man has a passion for photography and film that he has shared with all of us at Oaks Christian School. His exceptional photography was recently featured as the cover of our poster and program for our high school art show and his marvelous film work at our dance concert, Define. His creativeness and technical expertise is only surpassed by his generosity. He never turns down a

request to help others; this includes producing numerous football highlight videos, helping teachers with various video needs all the while making full use of our incredible media studio. He is creative, inquisitive and is always the first to try out a new technique. I have no doubt that we will hear his name again - probably announced at the Oscars for best cinematography. And we are all certain that your father is as proud of you today as we all are.

The winner of the Dallas Price Van Breda Fine Arts Award is Ben Fischinger.

The party itself was grand! A great celebration - with another great-grandmother, great-uncle, two more cousins and multiple friends of all ages. And to top it all off, that day happened to be the 15th birthday of Ben's brother, Luke, another stellar student at Oaks Christian High. It was a rich day - tiring! - but incredibly blessed. We are all full to the brim with gratitude for God's good gifts of family, education, beauty, love and laughter.

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 26

A LIGHT-HEARTED LIMERICK 

(read: GOOFY attempt at rhyme) 

IN HONOR OF OUR 1ST-BORN GRANDDAUGHTER 

There once was a girlie named Gracie,

who had the most beautiful facie.

She woke up with curly curls,

just right for this girly girl,

who loves everything glitzy and lacy.

The kids all sang "to you" at morning prayer,

her uniform left home for free-dress-wear.

She smiled in the morning light,

to mommy's complete delight,

her grin unveiling the missing pair.

The party continued that night at six,
with grandparents added into the mix.
We dined with great flair, 
she looked SO debonair, 
while sister performed disappearing tricks.

Her dinner completed, she opted to open

the many fun things for which she'd been hopin'.

Some Lego and crafty things,

some money for fun and flings,

and a pink robe to keep her from mopin'.

Dolly's new cradle, the evening's most favorite,

led us to table where we all could savor it -

an ice cream cake, she picked it,

but all of us, we nicked it,

and declared it the best-of-all flavor-its.

Enough with the pathetic rhyming -

this big girl of ours is SEVEN,

and growing into such a kind and thoughtful person,

with a great sense of fun,

lots of firm friends,

and she is loving school, learning and piano lessons.

She is God's gift to all of us --

And that grin is one of the beauties

of this or any other week!

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRACE!

We are so very glad you were born.

That Delicate Balance, Part Two

She really wanted him to play the piano.

Among the earliest guests to arrive

at the party,

she made her desires known

right away.

And of course, I am not surprised 

she felt that way.

She's been teaching him piano for 14 years.

He was 4 when he started,

and we were gathered to celebrate

his 18th birthday,

 

and his graduation from high school.

The graduate with his family.

Four.teen.years.

How many people do you know who stick

with anything for that long? 

"He's been working on this one all year long,"

she said.

"I want to get him on tape,"

she said. 

But he resisted for quite a while.

As the sun began to set,

about sixty friends and family trickled

in the front door. 

The house looked lovely,

the yard, enchanting.

The chatter was friendly,

filled with laughter and warm reminiscence.

A slide show went round and round,

repeating on the big-screen television set,

featuring a lovely collection

of photos from day one until yesterday.

And it was there,

catching glimpses of the past,

that I felt the first sharpness,

the sudden movement of grief and loss

mixing its way right into the middle of 

celebration and joy. 

Our grandboy as a newborn,

held in the loving arms of his daddy.

His daddy who died almost four years ago. 

So much sadness for so long.

And so much joy and happiness, too.

All of it mixed up together in this journey we call life. 

Our daughter's new husband,

strong and kind and good -

such a gift to all of us,

a gift we are grateful for,

right down to our toes. 

But another milestone has come and gone.

And Mark was not here to celebrate with us.

That will never change.

And I imagine, we will always feel

that stab of recognition at such times,

that moment of searing sorrow. 

It was only a moment.

And soon, the joyful banter

gained volume in corners, at tables,

in the yard, in the house.

And then, cutting through the conversation,

I heard the strains of Chopin.

Familiar music to my ears,

music I heard in my own home, growing up.

Ballade Number One,*

technically difficult,

achingly beautiful. 

So I gently led my mother into the living room,

to listen as Luke played this glorious piece.

She sat in a chair placed right in front of the piano.

My father's piano,

the one he played for years and years. 

And I stood behind her, 

my hand on her shoulder. 

And together, we heard a miracle. 

The piano literally sang to us.

Of love and loss,

of hope and discouragement,

of hard work - hours and hours of hard work.

My dad's,

Luke's,

our own. 

The tears rolled down my cheeks as I

missed my dad,

as I missed Mark,

as I celebrated Luke,

as I thanked God for Karl,

as I thanked God for all of it.

All.Of.It. 

Learning to play Chopin takes practice.

Practice, practice, practice. 

And learning to hold the tensions,

the mysteries of this life -

to hold them together,

to let them resonate with one another,

to acknowledge the pain and loss,

and to celebrate the gift and joy -

sometimes in the very same instant -

this takes practice, too. 

Life is hard.

Life is glorious.

Life is overwhelmingly difficult.

Life is radiantly free.

Life is ...

LIFE. 

It's a dance with ever-changing tempo;

it's a song with shifting harmonies;

it's a tapestry,

a rich oil painting,

filled with color and with shadow. 

Thankfully, we don't have to navigate 
the dance floor on our own; 
we don't have to struggle to sing all the parts. 

We are given the gift of one another. 

And we are given the gift of Presence.

Loving, gracious Presence.

God - Father, Son and Spirit;

Creator-Redeemer-Counselor -

GOD ALMIGHTY

invites us into the ongoing dance of the Trinity,

the intricately, achingly beautiful song of the universe. 

In this life, we cannot yet see the edge of the dance floor,

nor can we hear the resolution of all the chords.

But...

we can know the One who does.  

Thanks be to God.

^"And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will.  And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them."

Romans 8:27-28, The New Living Translation

*At the bottom of this post you will find a link to Vladimir Horowitz playing this piece. Horowitz was a hero to my dad - a genius on the piano, especially playing Chopin.
This is an older video of a live performance, but you will get a view of the
technical virtuosity needed to play this music. 
I was so moved that I did not think to shift my little Canon camera over to video
to record even a little bit of Luke playing!
 
Thanks so much, Luke, for those transcendent 10 minutes.

Joining with those same friends with this second part on balance...no buttons this time.
Michelle, Jennifer, Jennifer and Emily. And this time with Laura Boggess, too.

A Little Tea, A Little Laughter: a Photo Essay

Never let it be said that I don't occasionally enjoy

a little fantasy.

Pretending to be a 'lady,' perhaps - a west coast, 21st century upstairs resident of Downton Abbey? 
Why yes, don't mind if I do...for a little while.

 There is this glorious old hotel in my town, a Spanish colonial revival masterpiece that spreads out quietly across the street from the beach where I like to visit. 
Most of the time, I go there for the beach itself - to sit or to walk, to meditate on the wonders of God's creative genius.

Generally, I pay little heed to the old Biltmore because I'm always looking the other direction, across the small stretch of sand that is Butterfly Beach, staring out across the Santa Barbara channel. I admire the waves, the extensive beds of kelp, the Channel Islands - if they're visible - the angle of the light as it bounces off the water. I am always searching for dolphins or pelicans, 
even whales some seasons of the year.

But every once in a while, I stick my small camera in a pocket and stroll across the street, just to pick up a little atmosphere, to wander and wonder about who built this place, who stays here, how many weddings there have been on these grounds. 

It's lush with old bricks and old greenery, service personnel moving efficiently and silently across the pathways connecting its many outbuildings and cottages.

The place fairly reeks of elegance, of old money, of careful attention to the smallest architectural detail, of thoughtful planning and hushed voices and class.

Class - that indefinable something, that vibe which whispers, 

"We know what we're doing, we do it very, very well, and you're welcome to be here as long as you behave."

Even the luggage carts are discreetly tucked away.

The view is lovely - not spectacular 

(that might not be classy, after all) 

but truly lovely.

And there is a brick pathway that leads directly from the hotel to a specially built staircase leading down to the sand.

Taking my fantasy life into reality for a little while last Saturday afternoon, I had the rare treat of going inside this grand place.

I had a special birthday gift, you see. 

High Tea at the Biltmore Hotel, hosted by my daughter-in-law and my 6-year-old granddaughter. 

Can you imagine?  

High tea. 

At the BILTMORE!

Arriving at the Biltmore is quietly dramatic. 

Parking valets whisk your car to places unknown, 

the heavily-vined porte-cochere invites you into the cool, naturally lit archway entrance. 

Flanking either side of the front door are statuary 

and entire bins of orchids. 

A small, silent fountain slips water down the side of a  glistening urn.

The lobby is large, with high ceilings, expensive carpets, more orchids and a variety of lighting fixtures. To the right and down the steps is the wood-paneled lounge and bar, with a 15 foot window framing the ocean view.

Once upon a time, High Tea was served in that lounge.

Now it has moved to the restaurant, a sweeping space of beauty and calm.

There is something strangely soothing about such a space.

A je ne sais quoi  spirit of welcome,

of invitation.

It has that affect on all kinds and ages of people.

Yet despite the beauties of the room,

which truly did elicit sighs of contentment and appreciation,

I have to say that my favorite view of the entire afternoon was this one:

Gracie, across the table, looking so grown up.

Pink bows right down to her toes,

she loved every minute of this experience.

And what's not to love?

Beautiful china place settings, linen placemats and napkins,

delicious food, beautifully presented.

(Well...Gracie was not at all sure about these sandwiches. But the tea and the second course? Oh, yeah. She was into that!)

Each of us had our own teapot, with a hand-wrapped silk bag containing the tea flavor of our choice inside. I went for straight mint, they went for chocolate mint flavored black tea. All of us were deeply satisfied with our choices.

Two lumps, please.

Milk? Why, yes, please. I'd be delighted.

And drink it down she did - complete with elevated pinkie finger. I do declare, I believe she was the most scrumptious thing on the menu that afternoon!

And this is the second course.

And the third.

And the fourth.

A plethora of deliciousness, three of each item, all prepared strictly according to the number of reservations made.

There are NO drop-ins for High Tea.

And in one of the most extreme instances of overkill in recent memory, this was the special additional goodie tray for the birthday girl...which was moi.

Surely the largest dipped strawberry on the planet,
 plus truffles hand crafted by the chef.

Gracie thoroughly enjoyed carefully scraping off the dark chocolate birthday greeting as we packed most of the treats to take home.

It was a very full day, in every way I can think of.

I have written before about how blessed I am in my daughter-in-law. She has been a gift in my life from the moment I first met her, almost 20 years ago.

And the three of us had a lovely time of making small dreams come true for a little while on Saturday afternoon.

Downton Abbey?

Well, maybe not quite.

But for this California Nana, it was close enough.

Thanks, Rachel and Grace - I had a grand time.

This is not a particularly 'spiritual' post, at least in the way most people on the internet define spiritual. However, for me it was an experience rich in blessing, in love and in joy. And all of those things are among God's richest gifts to us. 

 So, I will list this at Michelle's Hear It on Sunday at her Graceful blogsite 

and at Jennifer's Soli Deo Gloria sisterhood over at Finding Heaven. 

I'll also join in with Laura's Playdate at The Wellspring 

and with L.L. at Seedlings in Stone.

The new blogger format makes transferring buttons nearly impossible for me to do and I am sorry not to be able to include them with my posts. 

I used to be able to open another window in my editor and copy them from earlier posts. 

I can no longer do that. So I'll keep trying to figure it out. 

In the meantime, I encourage you check out these fine blogs I enjoy linking with 

whenever I can.