Sitting in my easy chair at a little after six on a Sunday morning, I am a bit amused at how much my life has changed and how my body and mind rail against such nonsense,

Why in the world do I need to be awake, with coffee and bagel in hand at this time in the morning? The simple answer is that this has been my schedule for more years than I can count. First of all, as a teenager, Mom gently woke me up and sent me off to milk the family cow before getting ready for school. Next came babies’s and 5 o’clock feedings and Bill going to the barn to begin his day.

And so it goes, for no matter what reason tells me to stay in that bed a bit more, my mind switches to a different mode. Get up, make my bed, take my morning meds, start the coffee, and smile because there is no cow to milk.

Just reading my Instagram posting about our church’s youth mission trip, and there was not a word about how hot it must be in North Carolina. Just words about bagging vegetables in a food pantry, learning about a church whose worship every Sunday is preceded by a few hours of gardening to provide fresh food for the needy, or a church that’s mission is to minister to the homeless, especially the LGBTQ community who have few sources of inclusiveness.

I don’t know about you, but I would treasure an adventure for my teenager that exposed him/her to programs that follow what we hear every sabbath, as we sit cool and comfortable in our air conditioned, cushioned, isolated pew in churches all over the country…Jesus reminding us about the Least of These!!

My recall, as I look back over my life, is I had that exposure. And reading about their experiences, I wonder why I’m not there!!

After a week with five daughters and a granddaughter in New York City and Long Island, I find it almost impossible to put into words any thing that comes close to describing what is swirling around in my head and heart.

From Van Gogh at the Metropolitan, to Hadestown on Broadway, sandy beaches, long walks, soft beds, food un-comparable, my children allowed their octogenarian mother to be their companion and not their caretaker. Role reversals take a bit of getting used to, but I felt a steadying hand or arm more comforting than demeaning.

Of all the glimmer and shimmer of the city, the peace and tranquility of the Hamptons, the thing that filled my heart with joy, was seeing my family be family in every good thing that word should be. Six mature, bold, opinionated, successful women, not withholding opinions, loved and listened to each other’s joys as well as concerns with support and respect. And Mama kept her mouth shut!!! Well, most of the time!

So, a magical week for my girls,of reminiscing, of career plans, of retirement plans, of children and grandchildren, and as for me, I am holding on to that moonbeam they gave me, and I will never let it go.

That is a puzzling statement I just made, even for me! But thinking about why I said that, I think that may be a very good phrase to describe my life at this juncture of life,

This is written “tongue in cheek“ with humor and a bit of satire, so read it with that in mind. Rising up from a night of restful tossing and trips to the bathroom, I knock my “morning “ pill holder to the floor and crawl around the floor retrieving 3 pink, 1 blue and one kinda beige that I have no idea what it is for. I swallow them before I lose them again, shuffle to the bathroom, which has become the most familiar room in my house. Looking in the mirror, I am again shocked to see an old woman who looks a bit familiar, but not someone I would want for a friend.

Breakfast is interesting, and tasty, if I remember to put on my glasses so I can see that what I am spreading on my bagel is strawberry jam and not Texas Pete hot sauce! Getting dressed is somewhat of a challenge if I wear that dumb top with tiny little buttons and I absolutely know the button holes are even tinier.

My daughters gave me a year’s membership at the wellness center that has been everything I need in physical wellness. I take a gentle yoga class that does a lot for my agility, even though my “down dog “ pose looks more like a “dead dog.” Imagine my chagrin the other day when the woman on the mat next to me tapped me on the shoulder to wake me from “child” pose!

At my hair dresser’s suggestion, I started taking collagen for hair an skin care. I really take it for joint health, and the only thing I have seen as a result of all this is the hairs on my chin look really healthy,

So nothing at the age of 85 has changed….. at least the important things. I can still love and enjoy my family and friends and pray that they find themselves, at my age ,filled with a gratitude for life itself. May that continue also for me. Thanks be to God.

Memorial Day’s purpose gets lost in the hustle and bustle of enjoyment of an extra work free day in our calendar. And I admit that in our own family that happens.

Mark, in his visit yesterday, recalled our annual family trip to the mountain refuge of which we were a part for a weekend of hiking and fishing and paintball wars and a snack table filled with absolute dietary No No’s and to which no children or grownups had restrictions imposed.

It was our way of saying good bye to long winters and hello to warm sunny days to come. Today’s text threads are full of pictures and memories of that adventure, and once again we revel in the memories of West Virginia.

But memories of Memorial Day in my childhood were different. When I was about 6 years old, a dark, military vehicle pulled up to our house to tell my parents that our brother, Joe, had been killed in New Guinea in the South Pacific.. We grieved without any physical evidence of death, and indeed, we waited long after conflict ended to be able to inter our loved one.

So, for me, while enjoying a carefree, fun filled holiday, there is a part of me that always goes back to remembering at what price that holiday exists. So, tomorrow, whatever and wherever you celebrate, thank God for your freedom to do so, and the costs that can never be honored enough.

I think I have expressed my reasons for continuing writing in this fashion, and that is to record the family story for my grandchildren and my children….less they forget.

This spring has been a season of celebration for this family in a way that I can’t recall happening in such profusion! I smile in satisfaction and a secret sigh of relief as grandchildren hand my daughters those unspeakable moments of celebration that I experienced with them years ago.

There’s no perfect way to record this season but to just do it, and for all to see why our heads are spinning. First, is the graduations of Addie from the University of Radford with an Internship in a Charlottesville health care agency. Whit graduated from Virginia Tech with a degree in Engineering and a job in northern Virginia. Aaron will graduate next week from Eastern Virginia Medical School with a Residency at the University of Michigan Hospital. Grace not only finished her Fellowship at CHOP in Philadelphia, but got married and will begin her medical practice at Carillon in Roanoke. Throw in Megan busily planning a fall wedding, and we keep telling ourselves to just Breathe!

Most days I just shake my head in quiet admiration and watch my girls successfully navigate those seasons I experienced with them …… college, first jobs, marriages, and just enjoy my role, earned, I think, by being the resident expert!

This has nothing to do with Stravinsky’s ballet, but a yearly exercise of putting winter away and embracing Spring wholeheartedly. Today I put away all the dark browns and grays and navy linens and brought out the pinks and purples and leaf greens in my bedrooms. Suddenly I felt like I was walking into a personal flower garden for my own personal joy.

This simple act always sends my mind whirling back to my home as a child when this simple rite of spring was always quite a production. Away went feather ticks, home made wool batten quilts carried outdoors to a clothes line for airing out and to get some sun shine sterilizing before stored away in the attic . Nice light linens replaced flannels, and somehow that simple act succeeded in lightening our spirits as well.

Emily Dickinson once wrote, “A light exists in Spring, beautifully capturing the way that Spring slowly appears, like a light in the distance.” That light came to my house today!

Yesterday in a second grade classroom, I was witness to behavior that I didn’t quite know how to classify, but something, I believe you teachers deal with daily. It wasn’t ethnic or racial bias, but probably more of a case of bullying, I suppose.

After two weeks of studying a group of words, the fun part comes from a game recognizing those words in racing around the game board with moves by that recognition. I take small groups of children up and we have a good time, usually.

The trouble came when we had an odd number of students, so one group had to have three players instead of two. This group were quickly picking their partner, and I kept saying one group has to have three. That’s when the group started arguing about who would take one boy. Shouting and one child saying,” No one wants you!” Then more grumbling until the teacher said for them to go to their seats and do busy work. She whispers to me, “That’s a hard lesson for that child, isn’t it.

Last night at church, when we heard, again, the new commandment of Jesus to his disciples to “ Love everyone, as I have loved you.” I thought about that classroom. Where does the division begin? When do we turn on others who may not look, act, think, or believe as we do? I didn’t know it could rear its ugly head in a second grade classroom.

I highly recommend a physical/mental therapy for my friends lucky enough to have the availability to secure it. It takes many years of love, cooperation and a bit of good fortune to make it a reality, but well worth the effort.

That therapy came in the form of five small, active, delightful great-grandchildren. With one three year old telling his mother, when told he was going to my house for dinner, that “Oh, Good, she’s my friend,”. I have been many things in my life, but never anything better than a “friend” to a three year old!

Great Aunt Sarah intervened at just the right time with a raucous game of Hide and Seek that had little folks hiding in Grandma’s scary unfinished basement, prompting screams of terror over sighting of a spider, one little one hiding in a bath tub with the shower curtain closed and a little girl emerging from under a bed, calmly licking her ice cream cone as if nothing mattered more!

Some of the grownups looked at me and asked if all the noise bothered me. I of course said,”No.”. What they didn’t know was that I just turned off my hearing aid!!

That night as I crawled into bed, my knees didn’t hurt, my toes weren’t burning, my mind was serene and not engaged in solving all the world’s problem. I fell asleep with a smile and a prayer on my lips of thankfulness that I can love, enjoy, and be invigorated by these little ones for the evening, and send them home for their parent to calm them down after a visit to that crazy, great- grandma’s house!

Our family is gathering in Asheville North Carolina this weekend to join with the University in celebration of the induction of our Betsy into their Athletic Hall Of Fame. A well deserved honor as, to date, she is the winningest coach of women’s basketball in the school’ history.

My mind immediately went to an article Betsy was asked to write for the well known “Chicken Soup” books for basketball lovers. I can’t give you the whole writing, but she expressed eloquently the journey of instilling in her team a dream of making it to the NCAA tournament. In 2007 she did that very thing. In doing this, her team came from winning but 3 games the first year in conference play to winning 19 the second year.

Most of her writing was about her Dad and his unfailing support throughout her journey. I am going to give you the last few paragraphs of her article, so you can see why we as a family celebrate her, not just as a basketball coach, but the important part she has played in our family’s life.

“Dad died in 2004, This strong, seemingly invincible man was stricken with bacterial meningitis, and what was unthinkable happened. The night of the Big South championship game, as the seconds ticked away on the clock and it seemed that victory was imminent, I looked up into the stands to catch my Mother’s eyes, but she was gone. “Oh no, I thought. “Mom couldn’t stand the pressure.” What I didn’t know was that our athletic director had gone into the stands to bring my Mom to court side. After the game as I ran into my Mother’s arms, my first words to her were,”I wish Dad were here to see this!” She said, “Betsy,He was here every moment of this journey.”

Well, we flew into Austin, this small liberal arts college, to meet the highly ranked and highly talented team of LSU. We were humbled in our loss, but as I walked from the court that night, head bowed in defeat, reverberating through my whole being was a voice saying, “Suck it up, Bets,,,”. And I lifted my head.”

That same voice will be there this weekend, proud and happy, for our “Bets”