Warp and Woof

Meet the birthday boy. 

He's all grown up.

In years past, he would have been tucked into bed the night before by his mama, who with tears (forever the sentimentalist), reminded him that it was his last night to be....four or eight or eleven. Always the routine was the same. She would bribe. She would offer presents, a cake, and a celebration imploring the celebrant to still stay three or seven or ten years old. It never worked. So the next day would dawn on being a year older with all the rights and privileges of being king-for-a-day. Birthdays meant being excused from one's chores, getting to choose the dinner menu and being surprised with a gift-wrapped present on your chair at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Pretty much, it was YOUR DAY! 

How is it, then, that on his 18th birthday, this young man would have received a cookie cake at the pool where he was life guarding for the summer with a flourish of icing and M&M's spelling out greetings to DJ and Isabelle? Although not gift-wrapped at his place at the table, this precious niece was, nonetheless, a present to the family on an already commemorative day. 

Meet the birthday girl.

She's nine today.

We have three such birthday-buddy groupings in our clan, (plus our three sets of twins).  Our youngest daughter was born on our first daughter's fourteenth birthday. Our first grandson, on the seventy-fifth anniversary of his great-grandfather's birth.  

Coincidence?

A fluke?

What are the odds?

Someone more mathematically-minded than I am could figure out the probability of family members birthdays landing on the same day and it is altogether fun. Without making too much of the fact--realizing that because of numbers alone, our tribe has a good chance of bumping into one another's special occasions--I still wonder how, in God's mind, because He is intentional in all things, the storyline is being written. 

In Edith Schaeffer's book, The Tapestry, she writes about the family. She likens each of our lives to a thread and points out that "as we affect each other's ideas, physical beings, spiritual understanding, or material possessions, or as we influence each other's attitudes--creativity, courage, determination to keep on, moods, priorities, understanding spiritually, intellectually, emotionally--we are at the same time affecting history." What an awesome thought that a family is producing fabric that is woven for eternity into the very essence of history. Certainly each family member has influence, contribution, and genetic correlation with the entire clan, but could it be that individuals with birthdays bunched together somehow connect the yarns through decades or generations in ways that uniquely strengthen and reinforce? 

In Edith's words again, "So the threads need to ask The Designer, The Weaver, The Artist, time after time to be used in the pattern where He would have them be. It is not automatic. Mystery." Because we are made in His image, we have true, valid choices as we thread our way through life. We need one another. We need the Weaver's touch. The two parallel lines that meet in the sky, man's choice and God's plan, are indeed a mystery. Over, under, around and through one another's lives, our days twine and intertwine. Not accidentally nor incidentally, God has placed us in families on purpose. Is each family marked like an exquisite shawl or garmet with a tag that explains that the unusual nubs and slubs are to be expected and are in fact evidence of the authenticy of being handmade? Indeed, what better time to declare that we are fearfully and wonderfully Hand-made by the Master Weaver. 

Birth-day. Birthdays. Double birthdays. A time to stand back and examine the color, texture, warp and woof of the tapestry...and to be thankful He has set us in family. 

And these things will be written for a generation to come, that a people yet to be created, would praise The Lord. 

Psalm 102:18

LORD told Abram “and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed,” Genesis 12:3b

Land That I Love

If some of the pix in this post appear to be blurred, that is because they are accurately capturing life at the pace it is being lived. Whew! This holiday weekend seemed not the occasion for a formal photo shoot, "a little to the left...you, to the right...straighten that hair bow...take your hand out of your mouth". So we clicked the shutter as life swirled around us.

Today, the house is quiet. The washer and dryer spin and whir incessant cycles. I scroll through the images of hours quickly faded like the watermelon stains on the tablecloth now folded and tucked back on the shelf. I press "pause" and search for the essence of the camera's capturings, allowing my memories to breathe life into the snapshots of days so quickly gone. 

A photo melange of our Fourth of July melee follows. Maybe it would read better as a "Where's Waldo" search and find:

Can you find the serious Peachtree Road Race runners and their just reward? 

Who ran his twenty-eighth race this year? 

Where is the small child, (a baby when she last saw him two and a half years ago), who melted hearts when she greeted her great-grandpa with, "It's been a long time since I've seen you"? 

Can you find  delightful glimpses of a Small Town, USA fireworks gathering complete with watching the passenger train toot its way through town?  (Actually, there are two fireworks scenarios.) 

How many grands went to the Cumming parade and got to hear all about the steam engines that used to power the threshing machine when Great Granpa was young and helped as the water boy? 

Where's the poor doggie who's so confused about who's coming or going and finally got to be in a picture?

Did you spot the mama's who are deliriously happy to have their clans gathered round while exhausted on the inside? 

It wouldn't be Americana without sparklers, right? How many can you find? 

Where's the auntie and niece that are sharing a hair bow and (tsk) sneaking M&M's in the dark?!?! 

And who invited that stray little Aflac duck to our festivities? 

Do you see a famine happening anytime soon in this mix?

And when the day was done, who claimed, "I'm NOT tired. No, not me."

PS Below are pages from a book my daddy gifted to me decades ago. Perhaps every generation has looked upon the future with the grim realization that our posterity faces sobering times. Perhaps each generation has encouraged awareness in the next, lest the cost of freedom be forgotten. Perhaps, we are on this earth "for such a time as this", sounding the alarm and claiming God's sovereignty.

GOD BLESS AMERICA

Clinging to the Dock

I

Southern live oaks are majestic trees that are emblems of the South. Given enough room to grow, their sweeping limbs plunge outward and upward creating an impressive array of branches. Through decades, the branches naturally grow over, under, around and through one another, creating intricate patterns, and when dripping with native Spanish moss, an almost mysterious aura is created. We take one last leisurely drive around the island and the ancient trees remind me of a poem we found between the pages of a book in Mother's handwriting after her death:

"The bonds that unite families and friends are not forged for a little while, they are for eternity. They stretch across every boundary of space and time. They twine and intertwine from one generation to another, weave and interweave, priceless beyond measure. They are something to be cherished, to be fought for, and to be kept in tact at all cost."

~ Catherine Marshall

 We, too, have treasured the simple joy of being together. One more piggy-back ride. One more stack of books. One more craft project. One more glorious day on the beach. And one more evening peek into the fridge (this nephew has learned well from his uncles the art of refrigerator surveillance ).

Remember 

Summers at the beach.

Chasing gulls

Just out of reach.

Clouds of animals

Passing by, 

Tracing figures in the sky.

It seems like such a painful crime

To leave

One's childhod summertime.

PS And lest this reverie sound too idyllic, we must add here, that the guys grabbed the skim boards for one last ride at high tide after dinner tonight on our final evening. A trip to the ER followed. The shattered wrist is sporting a huge splint and surgery will be scheduled for one day next week. Stay tuned for more family adventures.