Two feet off the ground.

Memories of Simon at Disney World

 

  For Simey, gravity is something to be scorned, ignored or conquered.  He may not think that through;  we do.
   When we cannot find him, we first look up, checking anything that could be used by him as a ladder to some higher plane that he seems drawn to. 

   When he was very little, just walking, he and his big brother developed some sort of deal....even without benefit of language.  Simey would venture bravely into dark closets, under the deck, between the trees and retrieve toys while his brother barked orders and manipulated him by stroking his ego with the title of "Simey the Brave".
  Well it was cute then.  Now that he is seven, too old to carry or tuck safely into a stroller, keeping track of him at Disney proved a stressful ordeal indeed, for Simey chooses to respond to no amount of barking. 

 

 So we arranged a plan. 

 Each adult kept a kid...

but we all three kept Simey....within arms length, within sight. 

  This actually worked pretty well. 

 We only lost him 34 times. 

   Of course to him he was not lost and always reassured us with perfectly logical explanations like "It's OK Poppy, I was just chasing that bird, or I was just trying to see if I could scale that stone wall to the top, or I wanted to feel the waterfall on the other side of the three foot gap that spans that 40 foot drop. Well, it seemed like 40 feet to us!

 

Ok, I know I should have rescued him before taking the shot...but...then I would not have the proof.  We had inadvertently left only one adult in charge during restroom break....see what I mean?

 

 or...I was following the map.....????

 

   But those occasional moments when he got tired, or was totally immersed in the magic that is Disney, we were treated to the magic that is Simey. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   We discovered that he is our hat boy. Mommy knew that, but Poppy and I didn't.

 

 

 This kid voluntarily laid out 78'9% of his total discretionary  spending money on a hat.  

 He looked at it

, wanted it,

 agreed to wait till later to see if he really wanted it,

 decided an hour later that he did,

and

after several financial sessions with Poppy,

 he bought it,

 wore it proudly all day.

 

As far as I know, he never doubted his hat purchase.

  That is cool to me. 

 At seven, he has a signature style.

 

 

.

   There were other hats

 

 

 

He just wanted a picture of himself in them though. 
 I would see him looking at them and remind him that Thursday was shopping day.

 

 "OK, he'd say, just take a picture of me wearing it then Nana."

 

 So I did 

 

     We discovered just how uniquely manipulative he is though.

and now...

 His adorable smile will never so completely fool me again.

 

(maybe) 

 

When we returned to our rooms, he started to make us think he was deceived by us and that we were guilty of grave financial injustice and therefore owed him hat money.

 

 He has the makings of a lawyer, I  tell you...sorry to all you attorney friends...for he almost convinced each adult, at different times and in different ways...to pay for his hat, therefore freeing up his 78.9% for the shopping on Thursday.  

(Almost I said.) 

 We put our adult heads together, heads that were by then swimming in confusion, instead of the nice pool 13 floors below,

and 

we took a united stand.

    I love the little smile that crossed his face when he realized he had been discovered.

 

  He admitted defeat very graciously.

 I think he was proud that he had engaged us and had been rewarded with our attention. 

He had been listened to. 

 I really think that is all he wanted.

 

.  It is only when he is ignored or misunderstood that he becomes rebellious and falls into a heap.

    I loved his random dancing whenever a tune distinguished itself from the general cacophony around us.
    We saw this at his brothers football games too.  Simey was supposed to be the water boy...a privilege given to him by a hopeful coach.  But his job should have been entertainer because when the victory music was played after a touchdown and the time was right for the water boy to dash out to rescue the parched players on the field with water,

 Simey would be seen Dancing.

  Totally unaware of his responsibilities

just dancing to the music. 

 And so he did at Disney. 

 

 

 And this I will remember, for I am overjoyed when my offspring exhibit freedom of expression...that expression I so sorely lacked as a young person.

 

He was the first of the three to engage the juggler,

                                and after his turn with him, continued to enjoy the act to the end.

 

How I loved the expressions on their faces as they became lost in the imagination of Walt Disney that was present around every corner

 

I watched their Mommy about thirty years ago as she too was exposed to this happy place.  The expressions were the same.

 

 

 

After hours of taking this little distracted bundle of joy by the shoulders and guiding him off railings, and fences, stonewalls and flower beds, I gave him a chance to sit independently on the ride.  I told him it was OK if he sat quietly and proved what a big responsible boy he was.

  He was delighted. 

 

He turned to me and said proudly, "Nana, am I proving myself?"

Wayne and I nudged each other in amusement and I replied "yes Simon, you certainly are proving yourself. 

 We are so proud of you."

Simon  beamed

 

 

And Simey likes tradition

 

The morning coffee or orange juice on the balcony was not missed by him.

 

 

 

 

 

He initiated the cheers, so smiling over this re-discovered treasure of 7 years, we joined in...coffee cups engulfing his innocent juice glass.

 

 

    Two feet off the ground is not a bad thing. 

 

Dancing "like no one is watching" is exhilarating for those watching,

and smilingly acceptingly when caught in the act of selfishness is childish maturity. 

 

I will cherish these memories.

  Simey knows how to live,

 how to chill,

 how to love.

  When we listen to him, he listens to us. 

 I love the lessons this boy teaches me.
 

Charlene...proud Nana

 

 

OLD BARNS AND BEAUTY   

Why the picture of the old barn in a beauty article?

Read on...

 Ephesians 2:10

"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

 

    Sometimes we forget that we are special. 

    Sometimes we don't even know, or have forgotten because of the cares or unfairness of life.

 

I have noticed through the years my brother Ron often telling his children that they, or something they did were 'Special'.

Today, when my grandchild did something really kind, his siblings and I started singing "For he's a jolly good fellow!"  Let me tell you, he was taller and even more sweet than usual for the rest of our visit.  He saw he was special, he heard it too, and as he looked in surprise from one to the other, the smile on his face told me he knew it!



 "As I walked on a little country road in Lancaster Co., PA about 22 years ago, I unwisely burdened my 11 year old daughter with yet another complaint of how draggy I felt and looked.

 

     There was ...a long pause in our conversation and then she just commenced strutting down the road in front of me like a queen on Red-Bull. She turned to face me and said "Mom, if you walk and act like you are beautiful...you will look beautiful"

 

     And so sisters,

I realize we feel we have 'better, more important' uses for money and time than taking care of ourselves and looking nice, but I now look at things differently.

 

When we have neglected our housework, or just fallen behind, do we open our door wide and exercise gracious hospitality?

I

 

When we are dressed shabbily, or haven't plucked the dark chin hairs or fixed our hair, do we walk with the same open-ness, smiling at people and being sunshine?

 

I don't. 

 I want to hide behind the shelves when I see someone I know.  Or delay stopping to visit someone I feel led to visit.

 

Years ago, in Hobart NY, some ladies from my church went to a yard sale.  The pastors wife was with us.  Three of us were fairly newly married and pretty sheltered.

Something really cool happened that day, at that sale, with that pastors wife (and you know who you are).

 

The table was filled with clothes and we were all dutifully searching out bargains and treasures when our attention was turned to Mrs. Pastor who was holding up a VERY scanty bit of lingerie, indeed!

 "Hmmm", she said, "I guess fifty cents is not a bad price to pay to boost your sex life." 

 

I have loved her every since.   I do not know if she bought it, I guess my embarrassment and shock at the time wiped other memories of the event away.

  But I remember that best part.

 

 

      More recently a friend of ours posted a photo of herself wearing a beautiful scarf.  If I remember, it was a splurge to her, to someone anyway.  It transformed her with color and style and I could see in her expression as well a change.  She was radiant.

She knew she looked really great.

 

And what's more, her friends were happy she felt this way.!

 

We were proud I believe, to have the spark we love so much be seen by the world.

  Why?

"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

 

 

 and because

we are family, Gods family.

  We carry His name, we want to bring Glory to that Name.

 

We are not in competition with each other, we are walking together, encouraging each other, active in illuminating the gifts, talents and strengths of each other.  For the Name.

 

 

If you need a new scarf, or piece of lingerie, a new foundation or anti-wrinkle cream, or a new shade of lip color...perhaps it is time. Take some special care of someone very special. 

 You.

..and let those things which better showcase the outer beauty, encourage you to share the inner beauty.

 

Maybe we also should have a little Red Bull, and practice the wise little 'Laura Strut'

  then we will begin to feel the Truth of It.

 

If you see me today, remind me to stand tall and walk in confidence.

 

OK

Please don't be offended by the barns or the comment below.  I intend them to be as amusing to you as the saying was to me when I first heard it.

 

now the answer to the question, "Why the barns in an article about enhancing our beauty?"

 

"If the old barn

  needs a coat

     paint it!"

 

said the old man at church during heated discussion regarding appropriateness of make-up.

 

 

Charlene 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    OLD HEDGEHOGS ARE BEAUTIFUL 　
　

　


So, little Emily was sitting on my knee yesterday and we were sharing a tender moment that included I love you, smiles and kisses.

She took my face in her little 4 year old hands and said "Nana I love you but I do not like your hair cut short."

I was a bit surprised, but amused.

"So I should let my hair grow long again?" I asked the diva.

She smiled at me and said as she looked right into my eyes "yes, let it grow Nana, because you look like a ....a….ahhh, a hedgehog!"

Well this conversation has taken a turn now hasn't it!

I am looking at her because she is so cute and I am somehow so proud of her for being straight forward and talking so plainly to Nana.

For a moment I think this is good practice for us both as I see her standing before me at 11 with that hand on her hip that will likely be barely covered by a neon pink and purple mini shirt, flashy boots and hoop earrings just daring a Nana critique session.

I was brought back to reality by the tiny nose pressing on mine and the big brown eyes questioning my reaction to her constructive criticism.

I laughed and squeezed her to my heart and said "OK, Lady Jane,...I will let it grow some because I know you don't want your Nana looking like a hedgehog!"

Then, with the curly brown sea of hidden tangles tickling my face I whispered in her ear "Do you know what you look like?"

She giggled, not a bit worried.

I said "a pretty little Emily!"

She whispered "I know!" and hopped down and the moment had past into time, but not before I had determined that I will never cut my own hair again!!!

Later when Wayne came home, I was standing before the mirror trying to make my hair as nice as I could. He came in and we began to share our days incidents. We try to share the 'Kid" things of the day with each other so I quickly told him of the incident of Emily and the hedgehog.

I had not completed my dissertation before he interrupted me and said (and I am not kidding!)

"Well, isn't she smart to come up with that description because that is..."

His voice trailed off as he slowly stood upright from where he had been lounging on the door post.

Apparently He didn't like the expression on my face as I had whirled around to face him, still holding the hair spray, my mouth open in shocked surprise

  

"Well, ...Hon!...hedge hogs are cute, I mean it is cool that she would compare your hair to a hedgehog....I mean, ...ahhhh...I LIKE Hedgehogs!

I think they are Cute!!!..

Come on Char!”….he begged, fearing I know not what.

                 

He left the room, poor guy, but not before I assured him he was not in trouble.


I took another look in the mirror, looking for the animal I had heard so much about that day.

The musings of that time before the mirror went something like this…..

“So, its a little spiky..”

."Why did I cut my beautiful long hair?"

I recalled the incident.

Tuesday was very hot and humid. I was tired. I had come in from working in the yard and saw this old sweaty lady with long straggly hair looking back at me from the mirror, and I just had to do something.

I saw the scissors, (which I have since taken out of the bathroom and hidden in a safe place) and I cut my hair.

Simple...well, not really.

I cut, then had to trim for that to match that. Then trim again because that didn‘t match that.

Well, that's how it was.

But now as I stood looking for the hedgehog, I see an old lady with a cute spiky haircut.

More than that...I see myself, amused at the work of God in my heart that is allowing me to stand there, my feelings not a bit hurt, my sense of humor aroused, still in love with and loving my husband who agrees with a 4 year old about my hair.

How could this transformation have taken place? What had happened to the woman who was so insecure for so many years that she would have at this point, believed she really did look like a hedgehog, Why wasn’t I in tears and on the downward spiral to a depressive session?

I suddenly realized; the difference is Grace.

I am seeing Grace.
 An acceptance for who I am.
  Thankfulness for life.
  In living long I am aging into Grace.
 It comes from knowing I am loved unconditionally. It comes from knowing I am formed and created in love.

I smiled in amusement.

I had absolutely until this time hated the aging process.

Youth is recommended by its strength and beauty.
I know I squandered my youth, not accepting that I had beauty.

Old age is recommended by its humility and Grace.
Last night I began to give up hating the aging process.

Right there, looking into that mirror, I choose not to squander these years as well.
  I am what I am. I look like I look.

Why should I dishonor the Creator by complaining about, and spending time bemoaning His choice of packaging for me.

I felt a peace come over my heart.

I pushed back a swatch of hair that the spray missed, and in doing so I saw things I never saw before…the curve of my cheek bone… and it was beautiful, the glint of happy tears in my green eyes and that too was beautiful.

And I decided ………………..

Old hedgehogs are beautiful.

Charlene Eagles Richmond

LOVE LIKE THAT

 LOVE LIKE THAT

 "Who was the elderly lady that gave me a special hug Wednesday evening after church?" I asked my new friend Beth.

   "Oh", she smiled, "that had to be Claire. She has the beginnings of Alzheimer’s" she added, almost, it seemed to me by way of apology. "That's just what Claire does."

   My initial response had been to say " Oh, that's too bad',  but I caught myself because I remembered the gentle genuine love I felt from Claire through that welcoming hug.

 

   Beth moved off to another duty and I stood there that Sunday morning amid the same group of people as they mingled in fellowship.

   I was happily holding up the south wall of the Fellowship Hall, content with my people watching and musings

   You see, I had just  joined this little church, and after years of walking basically unseen in a large congregation, I was overwhelmed by the attention, the hugs, the welcomes I received here.

   I was also wondering if this was really the place I belonged. Had I made a mistake? Would I still shy away from this small group as I did the huge crowds? I remember I was just about to escape for the solitude of home that evening when just two steps from the door to safety, I was surprised and warmed by Claire’s hug.

I stood there watching the small crowd of closely knit church members that morning,  my musings were interrupted by the sight of two heads in communication, one grey and one black.

There in the middle of the lunch bustle, stood Claire and little Isaac and just as I suspected, two worn, warm hands gently cradled his little face, and she planted on that chubby young face a tender kiss, just as she had on my chubby old one.

  He smiled and let her wrap him in a grandmothers embrace and off he raced, a more confident, more happy boy.

   And Claire beamed.

   I suddenly felt tears in my eyes and recognized a warm kinship with Isaac for we share a secret.

 I have seen similar exchanges between my Mom who lives in an Alzheimer’s haze, and the unsuspecting residents in the Home where she floats in her confusion.  At first I was a bit embarrassed by her just as Beth was with Claire.  There she was, in all her motherliness, hugging and communicating with Miss Margie as if she were her long lost bosom friend.  I had attempted to distract her with some made up task, only to be ignored again, for her task of greeting and comforting Miss Margie was the most important business in the world to her and she would not be deterred.

The psalmist wrote:

"And even when I am old and gray, O God, do not forsake me, Until I declare Your strength to this generation, Your power to all who are to come."

 I am comforted to consider that when "the embarrassing ones" were younger and not yet in the dark journey, they may have prayed much like David did.   I know I do, the more as the years pass.

   I can imagine Mom and Dad, in the privacy of their time with God, praying something like this.

" O God, You have been my refuge and strength from my youth. When I am old and grey-headed do not leave me alone. If I ever come to the valley of senility, let me still be a glory to you, of use to you. 

Let me find a way to tell of your strength and power to save and sustain even when I can no longer remember names or where I live or who I am.  

Maybe God, I could just love and encourage others like you have loved and encouraged me. Maybe I could just touch a face with these warm, worn hands, and look into someone’s eyes with your safe and real love. Would you O God, even then, let me tell someone, with a warm embrace that you love them."

And this is the secret I know;  That God answers those prayers.

    So when I see the ‘embarrassing ones’ reach out the next time I will smile and be proud.

     Just as I see my Daddy’s face glow with pride as he watches Mommy share that kind of love with her neighbors,  I believe that Our Fathers face glows when His unselfish, unfeigned love is shared.

I am praying;  “God, conform me, renew me, let me forget myself now, so that I won’t have to wait until some devastating disease tears away my reserve before I am able to love like that!”

    For those of us who painfully watch our aging loved ones go through that hazy valley, we should be able to take some comfort to realize that there is a bright resting spot in the dark journey.

 I think it is that prayers are not forgotten, the old hymns still can be sung and they are still able to love. Not always…but they are still able to love.

   Thank you Claire that Isaac and I could run off more confident and more loved because of love like that.

   And Mom and Dad, for all the ‘worm and worn hand moments’ I thank you.

I promise you that as much as it is in my power to do, I will help facilitate you sharing that kind of love with others for as long as you live.

PS…A few captured moments of Love Like That….how I wish I had more.