Days of fine wine, roses and old corduroy...
The popular patron saint of love, Valentine, has always seemed somewhat lacking in charisma for me. Cupids with bows and arrows are cute but haven’t any substance. The t.v. show “The Bachelor” makes my skin crawl watching women and a man playact the art of love. I needed some new images and inspirations for love... real love between real men and real women.
Swan and Freddie Lou are one of the couples who make my Dean’s List of Love. They were a model for living life as a couple with passion and purpose. Strong personalities, different in many ways, they knew how to cut each other some slack and how to be each other’s cheerleader. Visiting them was always like a dose of spring tonic, rejuvenating and reviving. Fine wine...
My parents and Michael’s parents are on this list, also. Michael’s dad and mom had known each other since they were teenagers. When she developed dementia, H.O. nursed her, lived with her until he was no longer physically able to care for her. Every day, he visited her until she died. Mama and Daddy were an unlikely couple brought together by World War II. When she speaks of him, her blue eyes flash and twinkle as she remembers how handsome he was. Theirs was a passion that survives after death. Like the scent of old roses, pressed and dried in the family Bible, the fragrance of our parents’ enduring love is sweet and strong.
This is the time of year Michael and I met and we relive our whirlwind courtship every year, retelling our story, remembering the whys and wherefores of our love. Forty four years have passed with more than enough love, laughter, grief and good work. We have weathered our share of storms, reared three children who gave us pleasure as parents and are delightful adults, moved around and remodeled old houses before finding Sabbath Rest Farm. We made a life together. It was not always easy but it was always worth it. Old corduroy made soft through the years that has lost none of its strength...
Real love, true love, is a love that knows perfection is neither possible nor to be desired. And like fine wine, this love lifts us up, invigorates and energizes. When the first flush of new love fades, the memories, the scent still lingers to remind us of our beginnings. As the years pass, our love weathers times of trial and jubilee, boredom and hard work, and a new fabric is formed. This fabric, like old corduroy, is strong, velvety, comforting and beautiful with a nap that shows its wear. Love is the weaving of our lives together to form “a more perfect union”, a reflection of the One who first loved and still loves us. I’ll take this over cupids and valentines any day...
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Lent...Grief and Gladness
And so I come to Lent with grief and gladness...
When Daddy knew he was dying, he sent us a starter herd of English Shorthorn cows. The remaining cows are old now, sweet tempered and slow moving. Fanny, Annie’s twin, is close to giving birth and is having problems...problems upon which I will not elucidate for the faint of heart. A farmer worth her salt would have sent these cows to market years ago but I have never claimed to be in it for the profit. These cows were my Daddy’s. He raised them, gentled them, and gave them as his last gift to us. Every time one of them dies, another little piece of Daddy dies. Grief...
Saturday morning I began calling around trying to find a large animal vet. They are hard to come by these days when most vets prefer the routine, lucrative,controlled world of small animal practice. I was referred to a traveling vet, a woman based in Flat Rock who only does large animals. Her office is staffed with two other vets who do the small animal practice while she travels to farms and stock yards. Reared in Tuxedo, this mountain girl graduated from Mars Hill with a double major in chemistry and math, a minor in biology. She took her vet training at N.C. State then came back home to establish her practice. I like her style. Talking to her was a joy.
Our friend David Bair is dying more quickly than any of us expected. He and Dianne leave for the Bair family reunion on Tuesday. It is the last one for him and he has been holding on to this hope...seeing everyone gathered together again. Twenty five years ago, David and his brothers began this tradition so their children, scattered across the country, could know one another. David is the last living brother and he needs to touch, hug, hold on to the family that gave him his place in this world. I weep for the loss in my life of this good man and for the grief Dianne is feeling and will feel when he is gone. I give thanks for our friendship which began years ago at First Congregational when he stood to announce the blood drive. It has been an honor to call this soft spoken white haired midwesterner a friend.
He and Dianne want to have his memorial service in the high barn, the party barn. So we will gather, have a service led by their pastor and Michael to remember and celebrate our friend. Afterwards, I told David we would have a German Irish wake with beer, brats and bawdy stories of his misspent youth. I have heard a few and they are priceless. He laughed. I laughed and cried.
Our two latest grandbabies, Clancy and Maddie, are thriving, tended by loving parents. Clancy is beginning to look just like his older brother Rowan with a quizzical quirk to his eyebrows. Maddie, the only girl in this plethora of boys, shines in headbands and tutus with her brothers wrapped around her little finger. Matthew, Mason, Mead, Aiden and Colby are healthy and full of little boy love of life. Joy, joy, joy...
And so abides faith, hope and love at Sabbath Rest Farm, but the greatest of these is love. Lent will be filled with grief and gladness this year but the unshakeable foundation, the rock of hope, is the Love that shines through the loving ones who are the faces of God for me. I am grateful and that is more than enough.
When Daddy knew he was dying, he sent us a starter herd of English Shorthorn cows. The remaining cows are old now, sweet tempered and slow moving. Fanny, Annie’s twin, is close to giving birth and is having problems...problems upon which I will not elucidate for the faint of heart. A farmer worth her salt would have sent these cows to market years ago but I have never claimed to be in it for the profit. These cows were my Daddy’s. He raised them, gentled them, and gave them as his last gift to us. Every time one of them dies, another little piece of Daddy dies. Grief...
Saturday morning I began calling around trying to find a large animal vet. They are hard to come by these days when most vets prefer the routine, lucrative,controlled world of small animal practice. I was referred to a traveling vet, a woman based in Flat Rock who only does large animals. Her office is staffed with two other vets who do the small animal practice while she travels to farms and stock yards. Reared in Tuxedo, this mountain girl graduated from Mars Hill with a double major in chemistry and math, a minor in biology. She took her vet training at N.C. State then came back home to establish her practice. I like her style. Talking to her was a joy.
Our friend David Bair is dying more quickly than any of us expected. He and Dianne leave for the Bair family reunion on Tuesday. It is the last one for him and he has been holding on to this hope...seeing everyone gathered together again. Twenty five years ago, David and his brothers began this tradition so their children, scattered across the country, could know one another. David is the last living brother and he needs to touch, hug, hold on to the family that gave him his place in this world. I weep for the loss in my life of this good man and for the grief Dianne is feeling and will feel when he is gone. I give thanks for our friendship which began years ago at First Congregational when he stood to announce the blood drive. It has been an honor to call this soft spoken white haired midwesterner a friend.
He and Dianne want to have his memorial service in the high barn, the party barn. So we will gather, have a service led by their pastor and Michael to remember and celebrate our friend. Afterwards, I told David we would have a German Irish wake with beer, brats and bawdy stories of his misspent youth. I have heard a few and they are priceless. He laughed. I laughed and cried.
Our two latest grandbabies, Clancy and Maddie, are thriving, tended by loving parents. Clancy is beginning to look just like his older brother Rowan with a quizzical quirk to his eyebrows. Maddie, the only girl in this plethora of boys, shines in headbands and tutus with her brothers wrapped around her little finger. Matthew, Mason, Mead, Aiden and Colby are healthy and full of little boy love of life. Joy, joy, joy...
And so abides faith, hope and love at Sabbath Rest Farm, but the greatest of these is love. Lent will be filled with grief and gladness this year but the unshakeable foundation, the rock of hope, is the Love that shines through the loving ones who are the faces of God for me. I am grateful and that is more than enough.
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