Post by Admin on Sept 3, 2016 13:26:43 GMT
Articles originally published in the Times of Ottawa IL.
The Bounty of the Harvest
Snapshots
There are moments in time when a memory imprints on our minds and pops up at unexpected moments. These snapshots are gifts to be savored.
A few Christmas snapshots from my past.
Walking out of the library to find myself in a winter wonderland. Snowflakes so big and thick I could actually see the crystal structure of them. A little bit of fog combined with the late afternoon dusk meant visibility was almost non-existent. Nervous about walking in the poor light I opted to walk through town, a decision I'm forever grateful for. Christmas carols were playing through loud speakers, snow was falling, the temperature was warm enough the walk was comfortable. The world was beautiful, and peaceful, and I never felt the Christmas spirit as strong as I did that day walking through the snow.
I grew up in a family of eight children so Christmas meant laughter. Christmas won't happen if sugar cookies aren't baked and decorated. Its tradition.
Christmas Eve Dad would load us into the car, not an easy task with that many children, and drive us all over town to look at the decorations and lights. As a child we thought this was something Dad chose to do. It was his tradition but as I got older I realized it was his way of getting all of us out of the house so Mom could take care of last minute Christmas chores.
When we got home, we gathered around the old upright piano, a few of the keys didn't work, but we didn't care. Mom played by ear and she could play anything. So we sang. Music was an important part of our family. Three part harmony, and lots of joy make any song beautiful.
I have numerous snapshots of Christmas morning. The night before we'd go through the sock drawer, the one that holds all the mismatched socks, looking for the biggest socks we could find. Our chosen socks would be lying among the presents. We always got an apple, an orange, the ribbon candy, mixed nuts, and various hard candies. We didn't get a lot of sweets and candy other times of the year so the sock at Christmas was a special treat.
We drew names at Christmas so we only had one present to buy. We got one Santa gift, and one present from Mom and Dad. I have many snapshots of the trees and gifts. The tree would be covered in all the handmade decorations from eight children. Not a Better Homes and Garden tree but one full of love and laughter.
When I got older I would paint Christmas scenes on the big picture window. When the light was right, the window would light up and a bit of magic would turn those pictures into something wonderful.
Before the age of twelve gifts from Santa Claus created joy. After the age of twelve, a bit of trepidation would creep in. My family loves 'gag' gifts and I've seen some doozies over the year. They hold a special place in my snapshot collection.
Collect your snapshots and file them away in your memory book. Pull them out whenever you feel the need and look at them. Remember them. From my family to yours, have a Happy Holiday.
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Thanksgiving-the act of giving thanks; grateful acknowledgment of benefits or favors, especially to God.
I've always been a glass half-full kind of person. Not because I'm an optimist by nature but more a matter of practicality. I figure if I go through life being grateful for things I'll be happier than I will be if I go through life regretting what I don't have.
When my youngest son was born with cerebral palsy I didn't spend a lot of time worrying about what he couldn't do. I worked with what we had. I prefer small victories over failures.
One of the things Joshua didn't have was the ability to be verbal. For Joshua, speech didn't develop the way it would have without the disabilty. I might have been more concerned about this if I hadn't recognized in him the determination to communicate. At ten-months old I figured out that when I played peek-a-boo with him, he played back. When I would say 'where's Joshua', he would turn his eyes away. Then he'd rapidly look back at me and grin when I said, 'there he is.'
He couldn't cover his eyes to play the game so he would avert his gaze. I'm forever thankful I recognized this for what he intended. Communication. Over the years, we developed more signals and symbols that spoke. He used his eyes, his hands, sometimes combining both to get across to me what he required. He uses eyes going upward for 'yes', and a head shake for 'no'.
Over the years, I've taken Joshua for speech evaluations, starting at age seven, the last evaluation at age thirty-two. The final test happened at Marionjoy Hospital in Wheaton, IL. We found three systems that would meet his needs. The first one, the Dynavox, came home with Josh for a thirty day trial. The second computer was the Tobii. Josh refused to even try the third system.
The Dynavox could do anything required but the squares were small and required a lot of accuracy from Josh. Josh chose the Tobii; a machine that is changing his life. There are no limits for Josh using this system. He tells me he wants to be a writer. A choice that didn't exist before he acquired the computer.
On Mother's Day he printed out a message that said 'Happy Mother's Day. I love you.' He can tell me when he's hungry, when he's thirsty, when he wants his teeth brush. The first time I heard him say 'sad, sad, sad' brought me to tears. I didn't realize the emotional impact hearing him express an emotion would have on me.
His life is changing. Our lives are changing. I'm so very grateful this year for the gift of speech. Thankful doesn't begin to express the joy at our house. Josh is learning how to hold a conversation, how to ask questions and how to answer them.
I'll share more of this journey over the next six months. For right now, I wanted to share Thanksgiving. We're overflowing at our house with thankfulness.
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A Little Bit Crazy
I'm pretty sure I've lost my mind. A few months ago I made the mistake of watching HGTV and became an instant fan of Rehab Addict and Flea Market Flip.
They make it look so easy. You wander into a junk store, or walk through a flea market, and find broken down items that you take home and re-purpose. Don't you just love that word; repurpose? You take something and make it function as something else. I've become obsessed. No object is safe from me.
We'll ignore the fact that I spent the last four years, (and three 12-yard dumpsters) hauling 'stuff' out of my house. I had decided that the creative juices, and meeting my goals, would be easier if my house was neat, clean, and orderly. So what do I do? I start hauling 'real junk' back into my house for the sole purpose of saving it by re-purposing the item and making it useful. Yep, I'm certifiable.
The madness started when I commissioned a friend of mine, Phyllis Natanak of LPC Studio, to take one of my drawings and create a handmade tile mural. She did a beautiful job, and I knew exactly which wall it was going to hang on. The mural is now the focal point of my kitchen.
Beautiful tiles, out-dated dreary kitchen, and a new passion for rehab.You can tell where this is going. My husband never knew what hit.
He sat at the kitchen table a few months ago and I heard him say, softly and with great passion, "Phyllis is not my favorite person right now." I turned to look at him and saw him staring at my horse tiles. If his gaze had been loaded the tiles would have shattered.
The kitchen had to match the tiles. And I wanted the feel of a French country kitchen. I couldn't afford the make-over in the manner I would have preferred so I took all the lessons I'd learned watching Nicole (Rehab Addict) and Lara (Flea Market Flip) and started painting and repurposing. The results are spectacular. I can't walk into my kitchen without smiling and saying 'I love my kitchen'.
My husband may like the results but the kitchen madness spilled over into the entrance hall, the main bathroom, my son's bedroom, and the utilitiy area. We're now in the living room/dining room and heading toward the master bedroom and bath.
The overflow of creative energy, and the false sense of competency, has convinced me that I can make my own backsplash tiles. You might think this job beyond my capability, but for Mother's Day I asked for a new outlet in the garage. I needed 220 wiring so I could plug in an electric kiln. Oh, yeah. I can do this. Nicole and Lara have convinced me its easy. My husband tried to rein me in but I remind him that when we built the house he specifically told me, 'The inside is your domain, the outside is mine.'
My house hums with creative energy and its feels good. As long as I'm having fun, the madness continues.