FROM MY HEART TO YOURS: NEW JERSEY EARTHQUAKE EDITION

On Friday morning in New Jersey, we had an earthquake that registered 4.8 on the Richter scale.  And Friday evening, after feeling one of several aftershocks we’d had that day, I felt prompted to write a post for my Facebook author page about all the shaking and a special memory it stirred. The words came pouring out, and after pausing to have supper and take the dog for her evening stroll, I posted it to my Facebook page just after 7:30 pm. Then I set aside my devices for the rest of the evening to spend time with my family.  Less than 12 hours later, when I picked up my phone again, the post had almost 4,500 impressions, over 1,000 engagements and oodles of comments! And now, as I prepare this blog post early Monday morning, the stats stand at 6,900 impressions and 1,345 engagements. That’s like 20x my usual! Never, has one of my Facebook posts resonated with so many people.

With that in mind, I thought I’d share it here as well. I hope it’s just what you need this Monday morning.

THE POST:

We had an earthquake Friday, April 5th, 2024 at 10:23 am. I was up on the third floor of my church in New Jersey in a Bible study when it happened. There was definite shaking, like a super giant freight train was rumbling by. Everything rattled and the adrenaline in the room shot up in a nano-second.  

After the shaking stopped, the women in my group decided we felt most comfortable going outside, so we did that.  One woman thought there had been an explosion in the building, but a quick look online showed that it had indeed been an earthquake -4.8- and situated only a few miles from us. A couple of these dear women were so shaken that they decided the wanted to go home, but the rest of us trooped back upstairs to our roost on the third floor.  We resumed our discussion, but I could tell the earthquake was still on everyone’s mind.

And I have to admit that  all day long  memories of the one big earthquake I was in have been flooding my mind.  I was a young married whipper-snapper of a thing back then. The setting was was January of 1994 in our little apartment in Los Angeles, CA (pictured in the collage).  That day so long ago, my husband and I awoke in the wee hours of the morning to the most violent shaking I have ever experienced. 

I knew from the earthquake-preparedness training I had  recently had as a new teacher that we were supposed to find the nearest doorway to stand in, but the shaking was so violent- shaking up and down and sideways- that we couldn’t even get out of bed. So, instead, we just held on to each other and screamed (or at least I screamed!). All around us, I heard explosions as transformers burst and I was terrified.

After the shaking stopped, everyone in our little 1950s court-yard style apartment complex (think Melrose Place, the popular tv series from the early 90s), emerged to make sure everyone was okay.  And I remember the guy who lived downstairs from us humorously saying, “Well, I don’t hear the ocean, so that’s a good thing.”  That bit of humor helped to calm everyone’s nerves. 

The other thing I remember about those first moments after the Northridge Quake of 1994 was that I went to check to see how our car had fared. And there sitting on the car was a dove, peacefully waiting for me. I had a strong sense at that moment that God himself had sent that dove for me (knowing that I was a worrier, even back then) as a sign that He was present even in the midst of the quaking and that He loved me, and us, all of us.  

Immediately following this surreal God-moment, my husband and I returned to our apartment. We quickly called our parents who lived on the East coast to let them know we were okay. They hadn’t even heard about the earthquake yet (this was before internet had really taken off). It was a good thing I called them at that moment, because soon after our telephone service was cut and then they truly would have been worried (because my mother, like me, was a bonafide worrier. That’s where I got it from!)

So, what’s my closing thought – as just a couple of hours ago we in New Jersey experienced a full-fledged after shock?  My closing thought is this:  God is real. He is with us here, now, and always, even in the midst of the difficult.  And, whatever your situation this very moment, be it earthquake, or another worry or sorrow, it is my hope that you will sense His presence and give your worries over to Him.  Blessings, all. 

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Parenting Reminder from a FIVE YEAR OLD: Don’t Spoil a Teachable Moment (TOOTH Edition)

As I recall, Miss A was five when she had her first experience with cavities. She needed two fillings, the dentist explained. They would use novocaine and it would be essentially painless. They’d done plenty of fillings with children her age.

Up until then, Miss A had been a cute and compliant patient. She sat still for brushings and opened her mouth wide when the dentist asked.  She brushed between visits and after each six month check up she always got to go to the treasure box—a much anticipated and loved reward.

I’ll never know exactly what triggered the incident. Perhaps they were a little slow and Miss A’s nervous anticipation got the better of her. Whatever the reason, once unleashed, Miss A’s crying and carrying on could not be assuaged. She didn’t want to open her mouth. She screamed whenever they got near.  I could hear this, but I’d been told to sit tight.  

After 20 minutes or so a completely perspiration-drenched and frazzled dentist came out and said they’d only been able to do one filling. Miss A would have to return for the second filling on a different day. She’d been very uncooperative and unconsolable.

A few moments later, the hygienist brought her out and in a very loud voice announced (both to her and to me) that she was not allowed to got to the treasure box.  Apparently, she and Miss A had already discussed this back in the examining room.

I was taken aback and the mama in me was about to protest. But a little voice inside me said, “no”, so instead I said “thank you”, made the second appointment, and took Miss A home.  Once home, she rested and the day went on as usual. I tried to put the incident out of my mind. And by the next day, it was done and over, and we just moved on.

But, as the date for the second appointment loomed ever closer, I broached the subject with my five-year-old. 

“How did you feel about not getting to go to the treasure box?”  I asked, trying very hard to keep my voice purposely neutral, even though, frankly, I was still miffed that they didn’t let her go.  After all, was that really fair if the reason she acted up was that she was scared?

Her answer stunned me. “Mommy, I didn’t earn the treasure box, because I made it hard for the dentist.  I didn’t cooperate.”  She accepted responsibility for her behavior!  

Still, not quite believing, I rephrased the question. “So, it’s okay you didn’t get to go to the treasure box?”

Miss A looked at me like I had two heads.  “Of course,  But I’ll get to got this time.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

Miss A replied, “Because I will be brave and cooperate.”

And she was. From then on, do you know what else she was?  She was cooperative and brave, not only at the dentist, but for shots and throat cultures at the pediatrician’s office too! 

I’m glad I kept my mouth shut and let her turn that teachable moment into a life lesson learned on her terms.

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GOODNIGHT, ARK Celebrates TEN (Plus FIVE things that Float my Family’s BOAT!)

Did you know that 2024 marks ten years since my debut book, GOODNIGHT, ARK (Zonderkidz), released? It is my bestseller and is still going strong. The official book birthday is in August, but, just for fun, throughout the year I will be marking the occasion with special memories about the book, author visits and more!

To kick things off, here’s a picture of a very little Miss A. and me slicing the GOODNIGHT, ARK cake at the launch party ten years ago. 

And now, here’s a favorite post from that very first book launch blog tour (updated) with FIVE things that FLOAT my family’s BOAT. 

RUMBLE! BOOM! If your family is anything like mine, life can be stormy, what with the winds of busy-ness blowing us this way and that. And even if we’re not in the midst of truly stormy times, I find, as a mom, that it’s necessary to be intentional about finding creative, loving ways to stay afloat above the sea of activities and responsibilities of family living. Indeed one of the themes I hope readers (and their parents) will take away from my GOODNIGHT, ARK  is that sometimes a little extra TLC (tender lovin’ care) is just what’s needed to make things okay, even in the midst of a storm!

Here are five things that keep my family afloat (and happy). What would you add to the list?

1. Morning Hugs – From the moment they came home as babies, we’ve started our mornings with what we now call the “morning hug”.  Indeed the first sentence out of my daughter’s mouth each morning is,  “Time for my morning hug.”  And mine:  “Me, too.”  My son, age 15, now gives more of a morning shrug, but we still all know that the morning wouldn’t be quite the same without it. (Update: We still love morning send-off hugs before everyone goes to work or school!)
2. Special Breakfasts –  These are pretty self-explanatory. I mean isn’t any day extra special if it begins with pancakes and bacon, or warm-out-of-the oven blueberry muffins? The extra, extra special twist is that these breakfasts are often a group effort.  Who wants to stir?
3. Family Dinners – Eat together.  Talk together. Be together.  Need I say more? (Update: My son graduated college and has his first job. My daughter graduated high school and doing a one-year dance program in the city this year, but both still live at home so several nights a week, we still enjoy family dinner. We’re LOVING it!)
4. After Dinner Sillies – This is our family’s favorite time to let loose and be silly. We’ve done foot puppet shows, dance numbers, stand-up comedy, you name it. Anything goes, really, in this delightful post-dinner moment of relaxation before dishes are cleared and the evening routine of finishing up homework, cleaning up after dinner, taking showers etc. resumes. (Update: Yep. Still doing this.)
5. Pillow Ponderings (and Prayers) There’s something about the cozy comfort of bedtime that brings out a reflective spirit in each of my children. And I love nothing better than talking with my kids about what’s on their mind and then wrapping it all up in prayer, before giving each that last goodnight kiss and turning out the light. Even when I’m tired to the core, like the Noah in my story must have been when he finally settled those animals down, I wouldn’t miss these special bedtime moments. (Miss A and I still do this.)

HAPPY FLOATING, ALL!

(The original version of this post appeared on Becky Kopitzke’s lovely blog.)

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APPLES AND CHEESE: A Trick-or-Treat Memory from Paris

The fall I was eight my family moved from suburban Minnesota to Paris, France.  Shy and a little nervous at first, I nonetheless adjusted fairly quickly to life in a foreign land. Indeed, that first fall I remember doing gloriously special things with my mom, dad, and little sister like admiring the fountain fish in Tuileries gardens (see picture), touring Notre Dame and watching passers-by on the Champs-Élysées (see picture).

We lived in a large apartment complex just a few blocks from our new school and I soon made friends from all over the world including Sweden, Norway, Pakistan, Scotland and, of course, France. Here I am with my sister standing in front of our building on the first day of school.

All was going swimmingly until Halloween. Granted, I was only eight and had only gone trick-or-treating three times previously. All three times I had dressed up as a goblin. My mother had very efficiently made my sister and me spacious poncho style costumes with pointy-eared hoods so we we would never outgrow them.  And I couldn’t wait to trick-or-treat again this year. I loved everything about it!  

However, unlike 2023 where Halloween celebrations span the better part of the month, back in 1970s Halloween was a one-day affair. And, to my dismay, trick-or-treating was not part of 1970s Parisian culture. I was forlorn, mopey, despondent. 

Then, I had an idea. It was already late afternoon on October 31st, so there wasn’t much time. Still, with our parents’ permission, my little sister and I went on a quick run to ring the door bells of about a dozen of our apartment neighbors. After giving them a quick explanation of what trick-or-treating was, we said we’d be back just after dinner and would they be ready? Amazingly, everyone we asked said yes.

About an hour later, after gobbling down dinner, we put on our goblin costumes and grabbed two satchels. For the next hour or so, with our parents in tow, we rang those same neighbors’ bells. “Trick-or-treat!” we cheered at each designated apartment. 

Unlike my earlier trick-or-treating experiences, where we had just held out bags for the grown ups to plop in some candy, this time, at each stop, we were invited in. As the grown-ups chatted, the lady or gent of the house would bring us their “treat.”  Instead of the usual American fare, these included whatever they happened to have on hand—chocolate, nuts, raisins, apples, and even cheese! When we returned home, what we essentially had were not satchels full of candy, but a Halloween charcuterie feast! It might surprise today’s kids to hear this, but we loved it!  

That little dressed up goblin (me!) learned several things that evening. For starters, I learned that if you want something to happen, you might just have to be the one to organize it.  To do this will require creativity, flexibility and openness to new things— and new ways. That night I also discovered that chocolate and cheese pair beautifully with raisins and apples and that there are good people with generous spirits everywhere and that I wanted to be that kind of person.

We never went trick-or-treating in our apartment complex again. Our school, which had a robust American population, satisfied that need by having a Halloween parade. And in the creative department— and probably to my mother’s disappointment—my sister and I retired our goblin costumes. What were we instead? My sister was a baton-twirling majorette and I dressed up as a farm boy! 

As for the treats we received that Halloween so long ago, I still prefer them to candy. Yes, I serve up the more traditional types of packaged sweets for the trick-or-treaters that ring our bell, but I am delighted to report that Miss A loves preparing charcuterie boards for us and for her friends on any and all occasions. Here’s one she prepared for a recent gathering.

That cheese looks mighty good. So do the grapes. This gives me an idea!  In memory of my Paris Halloween and in order to provide sustenance as we hand out candy on our front porch tomorrow, I am going to ask Miss A if would like to prepare us our own little Halloween charcuterie board. Doesn’t that sound delish?  

Happy Monday, all!

MOTHER GOOSE MEMORIES: The Sharing of a Childhood Treasure

When I was little I loved it when my mom shared her favorite childhood treasures with me. For example, I remember her showing me this little brass dinosaur when I was about six. It had been one of her favorite playthings, she told me.  She used to play with that it under the pine trees by her childhood home. 

Years later, my sister and I played under those same trees, not with my mother’s dinosaur but with little toy cars that I then passed on to my children. You can read about those little toy car memories in this writerly post from a few years ago.  But, I am waxing nostalgic.

What I really wanted to share with you today is a treasured book memory—specifically of sitting with my mother as she read to me from her childhood edition of The Real Mother Goose. Here’s a picture of the cover as well as of some of my favorite nursery rhymes.  Inside and out it’s well-worn and well-loved.  

As I look at it anew, though, I see that it was printed in 1916!  My mother wasn’t even born yet. She didn’t arrive on the scene until 1940. But can you guess who would have been six when this book came out? Her mother—my grandmother! So, now I have goosebumps at a delicious thought. 

Perhaps, this copy of The Real Mother Goose first belonged to my grandmother. Perhaps when my mother was reading it to me, she was remembering fondly how her  mother had read it to her, just as years later, when I read it to my children, I fondly recalled how my mother had read it to me. That’s four generations sharing a treasured classic!

Now I’m looking again at those favorites I shared and imagining that they are probably shared  favorites. At least I think they are shared because they are the ones I remember my mother reading and reciting to me and I’m guessing that she chose them and loved them because her mother read them to her and that’s why I later read and recited them with my own kids. 

Do I think this love of Mother Goose will continue to the fifth generation? I don’t know, but I’m hopeful because I know at least one of the above left an indelible impression on Miss A when she was five, which I captured nicely in my journal many, many years ago after a very interesting car ride. I hope it inspires sweet book sharing and conversation with your own children and grandchildren. Enjoy!

Car Ride Conversation: Contemplating Mother Goose with my Five-Year-Old

“How high can a cow jump?” my newly-minted five year old asks from the back of the car – all serious and deep in thought.

“Come again?” I ask.

“How high can a cow jump?” she repeats. “You know, COWS?” And she drags out the word C-O-W-S to make sure I really understand.

“They can’t,” I reply. “Cows can’t jump. They can moo and chew grass, and they sort of plunk along slowly, but they can’t jump.”

There’s a momentary quiet in the back and I can tell by my daughter’s squiggly brows that she’s perplexed. Finally, she says, in exasperation, “Then how did the cow jump over the moon?”

As we wait for the light to change, I consider the various ways I might answer this. “It’s just pretend,” I want to say, but this, I know, will be too abstract or her. She understands real versus make believe, in theory, but in practice she still gets scared during movies with cartoon characters.

So instead, I say, “Come now, can a dish run? Can a spoon dance?”

My daughter giggles. “No!”

So I continue, “Can cats fiddle?”

“No!” she snorts between giggles.

“Do dogs laugh?” I ask.

By now, my daughter is hysterical. “Say more funny stuff!” she squeals.

So I do. “Do hamsters play flutes?” I ask. “Now your turn!”

My daughter explodes with laughter. Then she says, “No! Do fish dance ballet? Now your turn, Mommy.”

And so we continue, getting sillier and sillier with each passing car. As we head for home, it dawns on me that, as a poet and picture book author, this is exactly the kind of conversation I hope my writing will spark.  And I am reminded, once again, of the power of stories and poems (and Mother Goose!), to spark – not only conversation – but creativity as well!

Happy Monday all!

FOOD FOR THOUGHT from Miss A and Me: BAKE MORE CAKE!

Miss A and I have special new thing we are doing together—baking cakes!  We’ve baked two in the last month. The super-duper-extra-special thing about these cakes is that they aremade from scratch! No cake mixes or pre-fab frosting for us ( a first!). The first cake we baked was for my son’s birthday using the “Classic Birthday Cake” recipe and “Chocolate Sour Cream Frosting” recipes from KingArthurbaking.com. The second was Mary Berry’s “Salted Caramel Cake” recipe available through the BBC website which we served as part of our family’s end-of-summer BBQ this past Saturday. Both were delicious.

While Miss A was frosting one of those cakes with her made-from-scratch frosting, she remarked, “We should do this more often.”  And that got us thinking. Baking a cake makes the heart happy. But why?

While nibbling a few slices, Miss A and I now were are delighted to serve up four bite-sized reasons baking cakes makes for a happy heart.  What would you add?

First, cakes are a reminder that life is worth celebrating. Most often they are baked in preparation for some sort of joyful occasion—like a birthday, wedding, graduation or other holiday. But she and I both agree, they can also be used in celebration of even the littlest joys or even “just because”.  And when served, they make people smile and that makes our hearts happy. 

Second, baking a cake is a fun way to spend time together and foster lasting memories.   These memory-fostering baking sessions can be parent and child—like ours. Or, as Miss A the cake memories can be with friends as well. Indeed, from the time she was little, Miss A has been baking and frosting cakes with friends just for the fun of it. 

Third, a cake is awfully big to eat by yourself. This means baking cakes fosters community! Why? Because, once you bake it, you have to share it! Sharing can be a simple as inviting a couple of neighbors over for cake and coffee.  Or it could be a party. But it needn’t be complicated—just yummy.

Fourth, baking a cake takes time. It forces us to slow down. That, in our opinion, is a good thing because sometimes we to get so caught up in the busy-ness of life that we forget to slow down and enjoy the simple things – like baking a cake, playing a game together, going for a walk and so many more good, simple joys that it would be a shame to miss out on. 

Now, as the frosting on the cake, so to speak, and just for the fun of it, I typed “cake” into my digital photo collection which dates back to 2003 and got 158 hits!  Here, in closing, are a few more of my favorites from over the years. Happy Cake Baking! 

THOUGHTS from the HEART: The JOY and IMPORTANCE of SIDEWALK GREETINGS

I’ve noticed lately that folks in my town don’t smile and greet one another on our sidewalks as much as they once did. Perhaps it’s because during Covid we got accustomed to keeping our distance from each other, even outside. Or maybe it’s because so many new young city people have moved in and it’s not something their generation does. Whatever the reason, it makes me sad, because this little bit of friendly interaction is part of the glue that can keep us connected and compassionate towards one another.  

It’s  a very simple practice, really, that can different forms. It can be the tipping of a cap and a friendly, “Good day” as you pass someone sitting on a park bench.  Or it can be a friendly wave to someone watering their flowers as you pass their house. It can even be as simple as looking at someone and smiling as you pass each other on the sidewalk.

A favorite example of mine occurred a few years ago on the street behind our house. A very young Miss A and I were out walking a very young Sophie, when a neighbor we had not yet met came put-putting up the street in a nifty old car.  As he approached, Miss A noticed that his car had her name on it and she squealed and pointed and said, “Look, Mommy!”  Next thing we knew, the kind old gent stopped the car to chat. What a lovely conversation it was!  So lovely, that I even snapped a few pictures. To Miss A’s delight, we even got to go for a little ride.

And now I’m remembering another fine example. A few years ago, I was in a hurry, scurrying up the sidewalk on my way to a meeting. My focus was not on greeting others. I was absorbed in my own thoughts. Then a passerby gently greeted me with a friendly hello and handed me a flower. Before I could say much more than “thank you” she was off.  Attached to the stem was short note and a challenge to pass the joy along by gifting the flower to someone else. What a moment of goodness that was– to be noticed and blessed by such a simple act of kindness and connection.

As I continued up the sidewalk, my perspective changed. I started noticing others. I smiled and greeted them. Before long, I came to a bench. An older gentleman was sitting there and I thought he looked a little tired and lost in his own thoughts. So can you guess what I did? I gave him the flower!  The look on his face made my day!

None of this has to be complicated. You don’t need an antique car or flowers. It’s actually as easy as 1-2-3!

1. You see someone walking towards you on the sidewalk, or seated on a bench, or working in their garden etc. 
2. As you pass them, you catch their eye and say, “Good morning” or “How are you?” or some other sort of positive acknowledgement of their presence. 
3. They respond and you both continue on with your days blessed by the simple act of noticing, acknowledging, and affirming each other in this lovely way.

Hope for this lovely practice is not lost because, just now, I witnessed it in action right in front of my house. Two dog walkers—one old and one young, across the street from each other and walking in opposite directions—greeted each other almost simultaneously with a smile and a “Good morning.” Then the young man on my side of the street noticed me sitting here on my porch and he smiled again and said, “Good morning” and I smiled and said “Good morning” right back. And it was so affirming and friendly and wonderful.

It’s a little thing really, but so BIG too!  Will you join me this week in being intentional about connecting with others you meet along the way in your communities? Let me know how it goes. I’ll let you know, too.  And now I’m off for a walk with my pooch. I wonder who I will meet.

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THE CLOCKS ON MY MANTEL: Reflections on Faith, Life and Writing

The clocks on my mantel each tick to their own beat. In our current house there are just two, but originally we had three (the third broke at some point). Here’s a picture of the two that still grace my mantel – one is from the 1850s. The other from the 1870s. Both were purchased from a dear family friend, now deceased, who collected and restored clocks. Each boasts a lovely wooden case, intricate wind-up gears and reverse-painted glass doors.  I love their visual presence on the mantel.

I also enjoy the sound of their ticking, though family have had different reactions. “They sound off beat,” notes my husband. “They’re frantic,” my mother used to say.  But to me, they beat in sink with my heart, for my heart beats to three different passions.

My deepest passion, like the clock on the right that beats loudest, is my faith that springs deep from within.  That tick is my passion for Christ – whose love for me beats steady and strong through it all.  This is the beat that starts my day, every day, and keeps me ticking even when life gets tough. It’s my joy and strength.

The middle clock (the one that I still remember fondly) ticked and chimed in two modes and gave peeps every quarter hour. In my heart, that tick tock was the mothering clock that was ever ticking and keeping me moving forward, nurturing and raising my children.  That middle clock always seemed to beat faster than the other two, which matched my feeling of often being out of breath with the intensity of parenting and the fullness to bursting – good and bad – of managing all the daily details of life. 

Then there’s that third clock. Tall and serene with dainty walnut steeples, its tocks are as delicate as mouse whiskers.  In my mind, this is the clock that’s quietly noticing and taking it all in. This mirrors the depths of my heart that are ever sensing and grappling with life’s beauty and pain. This gentle beating comes with a pen in hand.  It uses words to pull together and analyze the sometimes seemingly discordant tick-tocks of life. And over the years, it has been a source of  renewal and expression that I can’t imagine living without.  The result?  A mile-high stack of journals, this blog, and my stories and books for children which each in their own way point to God’s goodness and love.

What about you? What makes you tick? Do have any figurative clocks on your life mantel?  And what helps you keep them all in sync?

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JOY IN THE LITTLE THINGS: The Tale of a Sparkly Purse

Last Friday my husband, daughter and I attended a gala to celebrate the eight year anniversary of the founding of the dance company my daughter attends. The event was lovely and served as fundraiser for scholarships. There was music, food, drink, and wonderful conversation. It felt so good be socializing in person! 

The attire was semi-formal and I managed to put together a nice outfit – black velvet pants and a dressy cranberry blouse. I put on my favorite white enamel necklace and pearl earrings. But something was still missing. I needed a purse to hold my lipstick and phone. Something small and easy to carry with a short strap so it could dangle daintily over my forearm as we chatted, sipped wine and nibbled appetizers. And elegant. I wanted it to be elegant.

None of my purses fit that description, but I nonetheless opened the closet in the hopes that something would strike my fancy. It’s not a big collection and as I suspected, nothing was just right. Then at the very back, behind a basket of my scarves, I spotted this:

White and sparkly, and safely wrapped in a plastic bag, it beckoned me to investigate. It was an evening purse. Poking out of the side was the edge of a note. I could just make out the word: LAURA.

That LAURA was written by my mother! She passed away in 2013 and sometime before then, she must have given me this special sparkly purse – perhaps as part of downsizing her own purse collection. I could tell by the handwriting that she wrote the note before she got sick because the lettering is strong and sure. 

Full of loving memories of her, I gently removed the purse from the bag and read the note. This is what it said:

Laura – I bought this in Spain about 1968 to use at a New Year’s Eve party at the Royal Automobile Club of Espagne. For the very formal dinner and dance, I had an emerald green silk long dress made, and wore long, white leather gloves. At midnight, with each stroke of 12, we had to pop a grape into our mouths (pretty dangerous when you think about it!)”

I smiled reading it because it was so like my mother, first to be thoughtful enough to tell me the special story behind the purse, but also, in typical fashion, to include a little life lesson – i.e. don’t put too many grapes in your mouth at once!

I showed the note and purse to Miss A and we both laughed and teared up a bit. “That sounds like her,” she said. Then we both decided my mother would have loved knowing that I was taking her purse to Miss A’s gala! 

Just before we headed out for the evening, I unlatched the purse so I could put in my cell phone and lipstick. And guess what my mom left me there?  SIXTY dollars!  Abigail and I agreed that that was most certainly a special sign that she was with us in spirit and that the purse discovery was meant to be. 

Here is the purse at the party with lipstick, phone and that special $60 tucked safely inside:

And, after the gala, what did we do with that little bit of fun money? A few nights later, we ordered sushi- something Miss A, my mom and I used to love to order and eat together. And, in keeping with my mother’s grape advice, we popped only one piece into our mouths at a time.

As we head into our weekends, may this serve as a sparkly reminder not to forget to look for the joy in the little things – like finding a long-forgotten purse — and savoring the sweet memories those little things spark. 

Happy Friday, all!

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CHRISTMAS REFLECTION: Thoughts on Friendship and Advent Calendars

On the heels of my special post about Sister Michelle, which honors a special Christmas memory from when I first moved to Paris, France, as a shy eight-year-old, it seems fitting today to share another memory that forms sort of a book end to that one. Both have in common that they honor special people in my life. Be sure to read to the end for a holiday challenge for you that has to do with honoring significant people in your life’s journey. And now, for today’s reflection.

In the fall of 1981, a shy girl, still very homesick for her friends and life in France, moved with her family to a suburban community just outside of Minneapolis, Minnesota. She didn’t know many people and to say it was a shock to her quiet self to be suddenly plunked into a huge junior high with 300 or so kids in the seventh grade alone, is an understatement.  There had only been 15 or so kids in the whole 6th grade at her previous school!

That fall this shy girl comforted herself by reading lots of books and writing and drawing.  But good things were at work for within days of starting school that girl (who was me if you haven’t guessed) met a sweet, kind, soul who immediately made her (me) feel welcome.

This girl, whose name was Elizabeth, was shy like me and also liked to read and write.  We quickly became “kindred spirits” for, yes, we had both, of course, read and loved Anne of Green Gables.  Elizabeth made that first fall in Minnesota not just bearable but delightful!  

This brings me to my special Christmas memory that was triggered by watching this Youtube video that this special friend, who grew up to be a Lutheran pastor, posted on her social media in December 2020. In it, she shares a special life-long collection of hers:  advent calendars!  Enjoy the video and then read about my special memory below:

Pastor Elizabeth may not remember this, but that first December of my junior high life in Minnesota, she invited me over to her house.  I don’t remember all the details of that afternoon, but I do remember the highlight!  

“Do you want to make advent calendars?” she asked. I had never heard of such a thing so she showed me one and explained how it was a special way to look forward to Christmas day by opening little windows each day.  

Then she showed me how we could make our own by using two pieces of sturdy paper. First we drew our cover sheets with festive Christmas scenes. Next, using scissors we cut out 24 flaps for windows and numbered each one. Then we attached the undersheet and put a special Christmas message or symbol or verse in each window. It was so much fun!

I’m pretty certain that my own family’s love of advent calendars can be traced back to Elizabeth. Indeed, since they were little, my kids have looked forward to their advent calendars (and the chocolate inside) each and every year.  Need proof? Here’s a tasty close up of one of Miss A’s advent calendars.  

Now, in a spirit of gratitude and awareness of God’s blessings, I’d like to take a moment to honor Elizabeth, who’s been such a good friend over the years – doing kind things like cheering me on in my writing journey and even sharing my books with her congregation. 

Here’s my closing thought for you. Is there some special holiday or family tradition that can be traced back to a special person in your life? If so, maybe today or this week is a good time to find that person and let them know.  

Blessings of the season, all!

Note: If you enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing to my blog using the subscribe button in the footer or sidebar. I post once or twice weekly with inspirational reflections, tips, interviews and more.