Teary Eyes with a Chance of Showers

I slice the sliver of leftover birthday cake so thin I can almost see through it. Just a touch of celebration-in-sweetness to go with my cup of choice, pure Assam tea in a silk bag steeped in a china Blue Willow teapot (convenience without sacrificing quality). I pour the amber liquid into my newest teacup find – a “reject” due to a lack of gilding. The artisan must have hiccupped and lost sight of this beauty as she sped past the brush unvarnished. I glimpsed her mates in gilded splendor, but felt drawn to the sweetly hopeful one that stood with only roses to offer. I noticed as I carried her to the checkout counter that she sat a bit wobbly in the saucer, and I loved her all the more. I see myself in this teacup that stands dutifully though imperfectly at the ready, a reservoir of comfort swallowed contemplatively as thought washes over the one seeking respite.

Some days living a “special” life challenges my naturally optimistic nature. The droning, the routines, the stymied growth, and that does not even begin to address the issues my autistic son faces each day. You see, I too have special needs, but the Lord built them into an inner place that I hide from the rest of the world. Whereas my son cannot hide the fact that he loves to drone a humming tune when excited or compulsively close an open doorway to his spotlessly tidy room, I stuff all my quirks and foibles into an envelope to be opened later in private when I can “handle” it all. Sometimes that envelope bursts at the seams and tears spill out; rarely does this happen off in a secluded corner. "Is it hormones?" I wonder, concluding that I have had this affliction all my life and this time of life has no special lease on tears.

I lift the gilt-free teacup to my lips and drink in the warmth of acceptance in the face of imperfection. All of my wildest hopes and dreams and longings fall in line behind the joy of being loved just for me, not for what I may become. When my sons arrived too soon and unable to survive without accessories (my husband uses that word with such a scope beyond fashion … I just love it) to help them breath and eat and survive, I loved them in that moment. I did not reason that I would be able to love them once past certain milestones; I had loved them before I ever saw them, no shortcomings affected that -- such a picture to me of my Heavenly Father’s brand of love for me. Though my parents failed to share such a love with me, I believed it existed and never gave up looking. I found it in many places, but always feared it would vanish if I reached for it; and so I held back … waited. One day the envelope burst, the tears spilled forth, and I nodded “yes” to an invitation to live fully in love.

Just yesterday my sweet husband turned 47. He looked at me as we were driving through the sunset-laden forests and said, “I am turning 47. It took 47 years to get here. How did that happen so fast?” I laughed a deep belly laugh and blew him a kiss. I met him when I had lived but 17 years and he only 18. He looks the same to me today. His smile has not aged a day; his lushly-lashed eyes still “send me.” I seem to recall the agonizing wait to become 18 and get away from the life I had been dealt and begin living the life I had always dreamed of: Love, life, education, marriage, children, and ... God granted me so much in the way of Happily Ever After.

I do not need to tell you that it has not been all smiles and batted lashes, but I will proclaim loudly it has been a wonderful life thus far, and I look forward to each new day, troubled or otherwise.

Funny, as I sit here rambling on about nothing in particular and everything in general that fills my life, I sense a lack of teary-ness. Did the sorrows go away? Has my sweet precious Edward Kitty, missing now five days, returned to meow and love me with his teddy-bear fluffy body? (Sadly, no. He appears to be resting peacefully somewhere beyond our life … much to my sorrow.) No, the doings of the day have not changed, my son’s autism has not vanished, the dishes piled in the sink remain, but the teacup stands empty. I have drained it slowly and surely in this respite moment by the wayside of yet another busy Monday. Though there be piano lessons to attend and fresh food to be selected for another feasting meal with those I love, I continue to pause here in my favorite chair with this cheerful teacup for just a moment longer. A “special” life, indeed …

Sweet Edward ... our "Eddie Boy" (I miss you!)

A Very Fine Way to Spend a Day

We awoke at 6:00 AM (which in our language equals the middle of the night), showered, and crept out while the household still slept. With two Concert Grande harps in tow, Gary and I set out for the coast. The 2-1/2-hour drive and the successful drop-off of the harps for regulation (read: EXPENSIVE tune up required every two years) left us free to enjoy a few hours of open road and unexplored territory along Highway 1. We have made it a personal quest to explore every mile along the coastal route of our home state. I think this trip may have been the culmination of that years-in-the-making goal. I shall have to consult a map more intently before I know for certain.

We wended our way through hills and valleys of farmland and dairyland, before we reached the teeny town of Dillon Beach, pop 319. With little to offer but a glimpse of the sea, the town invited a pause to peer and we did with delight. I deeply inhaled that magical fragrance of the sea. I have purchased countless bath salts, lotions, and gelees promising the aroma of the ocean, but not a one has come close to emulating that true salty tang of freshness that rolls off the mighty Pacific. In my eagerness to see the sea I completely forgot my camera. As we pulled away from the beach in pursuit of more delights down the coast I gave nary a thought to snapping a pic or two. Once we retraced our path back to the highway I remembered and snapped away. These rocks brought to mind Norwegian tales of Mountains by day and Trolls by night. Surely these boulders would transform to some pretty Trollish ones. (For size reference, enlarge the photo and notice the barbed-wire fence on the left hand side. These boulders are HUGE!) This lone llama stole my heart as the favorite pic of the bunch snapped throughout the trip. What must that guy be thinking? Clearly he stands apart from the herd with something different coursing through his vein and brain. We followed the winding roadway past lush foliage, fishing ports, and the occasional dwelling. We passed a delightful little seafood restaurant announcing local oysters and mussels, but Gary failed to find adequate parking and pushed southward. [Later he admitted the thought of eating oysters or mussels ranks right up there with eating snails, something to try once – a requirement he has already fulfilled. *sigh*]

The rolls and bends in the road revealed pretty views of the inlet around each new curve. Fishing boats of modest cost and hardy constitution carried home the catch of the day. Houses hung out over the water on pilings of a most precarious stance. No gardens for these dwellers, though the odd bit of seaweed and sludge did linger to bloom on the rocky shores. [Note: I took pics of these cottages but when I returned home I found no pics in the camera. Could these have been enchanted dwellings of a water kelpie or other magical sprite? One does wonder ...)

The temperate day offered up the opportunity to ride with the windows down and the breeze lacing my hair with the aroma of the end of the continent. We felt truly transported to a faerie land as we seldom passed a car or bike on the roadway. Eventually my stomach began to speak up … loudly. With no dining prospects in sight, we just followed the winding way and hoped. The GPS gave us little indication of what commerce lay ahead (mainly due to our ignorance in operating the frill that came with the car). All at once we rounded a bend and found that we had entered the main street of Point Reyes Station, a former railway station (hence the name), in the middle of cattle/dairy land.

We parked on the edge of town and walked the main street, pretty much the only street, and found this delightful eaterie. The floriferous gardens offered shady nooks for dining on delicious entrees. We began with home-made soups (clam chowder for Gary and veggie lentil for me) and then onto a hand-made veggie burger with cole slaw for Gary and a creamy polenta surrounded by a fan of grilled portabella mushrooms and the most scrumptious local farmstead bleu cheese (SOOOOO yummy!). We finished off that while sipping on iced tea, finding ourselves with little room for dessert; so we split something sweet. The menu cried out: “Old-Fashioned CHOCOLATE CAKE triple layers with chocolate ganache, chocolate buttercream frosting & shaved chocolate.” We couldn’t resist … and it was worth every devilish calorie.

With little time left before retrieving the harps, we chose another backroad and found lots of happy California cows and local beauty. We savored the memory of such delightful sights as we navigated commuter traffic homeward through Sacramento. We passed through the valley of cars and climbed the Sierras for home, holding onto the memory of coastal beauty until returning home to our mountain beauty. Such a very fine way to spend a day. ; )

Sunday Wonder

The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying,

Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love:

therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.

Jeremiah 31:3

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[Ditto from me, my dearest love. Happy Birthday! XOXO...]

I've Got the Blues ...

The young girl sipped her sweetened tea from the delicate blue willow tea cup and listened wide-eyed as the lady with the gnarled hands shared the tale of two star-crossed lovers who magically transformed into doves in order to escape a world of prejudice and enter a world of togetherness. The richness of the deep-blue pattern captivated the young one as much as did the legend.

Later, while other young engaged ladies registered for jazzy modern patterns or elegant floral sets, she chose to continue seeking out special pieces one at a time. Over the years other blueness entered the home and shared the cupboards with the blue couple in love. The cupboards filled and spilled over onto the sideboards and continued on up the yellow walls. The blues made everyone smile and so they continued to multiply with gifts received and treasures found.

Though many years have passed since that first sip of tea, she never tires of dining on Blue Willow and sharing stories around the table with those she loves.

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Though I am away to play AGAIN today, I thought you would like a glimpse of some of my blue beauties. (You can see I have grown to love much more than willowed ware.)

I'm so happy I've got the blues! ; )

Faerie Tale Friday

Once upon a time the prince and the princess hit a bump in the road on the way to Happily Ever After. He forgot the way, but she reminded him.

And so he did ... forever more. : )