Mauri and Sherry

Last night was the final session of a six-week “Spring Planting” series offered at NFC, led by Mauri. Twenty-five or so singers showed up for the first session and I’ve gotta say we had more fun than a group of Quakers oughta legally have. Mauri planned music from all musical traditions, which would include contemporary and contemplative. There was rarely a time that every singer in the room was familiar with the song. Maybe everyone knew or had at least heard “Amazing Grace.” David Sherwood brought some harp singing to one of the sessions; at another we focused on “606,” a hearty choral piece from the Mennonite tradition, so well known by those folks that it came to be called by its number in the songbook.

One faithful attender, Warren, led out in clapping any time he felt the Spirit move, which was often. Every gathering for worship needs a Warren!

Over the course of six weeks, some natural attrition reduced our group’s size. But not our enthusiasm! Someone (could have been me) suggested we record parts of the final session, just for the fun of it. Since you couldn’t come, here’s a little sampler and a couple of pictures, especially so you can see the joy on Warren’s (and others’) face.

God was very generous to me when he handed out mothers. He gave me four plus a number of “moms” of my friends through the years. My original mom gave me life and endured my childhood and adolescence, but her influence continues, though her physical presence in my life ended 20 years ago, almost to the day. With all the tangible or intangible reminders I keep readily accessible, I don’t run any risk of forgetting the love she showed me those 43 earthly years we spent together. Here’s an example, something that hangs on my office wall.

Happy Mothers Day…not only to my two living moms, but to all females who have a loving influence in someone’s life.

Here are some miscellaneous pictures from my weekend in Denver. You know how hard it is for me to resist.

Wii Bowling with Bailey. Cassidy took the picture.

Bailey got bonked in the forehead with a bouncing fielder but missed only one inning.

The Anderson family ran the Nike 5K in downtown Denver, and I got to witness the event.

Snow welcomed me on Thursday, but by Sunday we had the top off!

Got to see Taylor twice, and both times involved forking food into our mouths.

That about covers it. For now, anyway.

So we went shopping at the hospital this morning and Mauri came out of the dressing room looking oh so dashing in this:

Five hours later we left without making a single purchase, though I’m sure our shopping spree will cost something. But the mission was accomplished. Once Mauri’s knee heels, he’ll be walking much more comfortably. The surgeon gave us a sheet of color photos that show how badly he needed arthroscopic surgery.

Another highlight of my weekend was grandson Bailey’s participation in the Rockies game. Comfort Dental sponsored a drawing, won by Bailey and seven others. They scored lots of loot and the privilege of being in the starting lineup.

He stood in left field in Matt Holliday’s position, where Matt joined him. This picture shows Matt signing Bailey’s baseball.

Bailey and his dad hope to catch a wayward ball from their nosebleed-section seats. Nice glove, Dusty.

Every once in a while two of my lives intersect. It occurred last weekend in Colorado Springs after the Beth Moore conference. I just happened to be present to capture the event on “film”!

Last November I posted a flyer that shared Quinn’s desire to gather diapers and formula for the babies of Juarez, Mexico. Amy Porter, friend in my present life, saw it on this blog and felt led to join the cause. She got her church and MOPS group involved and soon had a carload to deliver to Quinn up in Denver. When another large supply of diapers and formula became available, Amy contacted Quinn and made a plan for us to pick up the supplies while we were in the Springs.

It blessed my socks off to witness and document this particular slice of the ongoing effort that has already brought about notable results in Juarez.

I have many more pictures and stories to post, but for now I’ll put up two that tell the general story of our day today.

From our favorite top-row seats at the Colorado Springs Beth Moore conference. We sang our hearts out.

From our mile-high seats at Coors Stadium in Denver at the Rockies vs. Dodgers game. We cheered our hearts out.

Here’s a picture I took of the Andersons’ front yard as we pulled in from the airport.

Today might be a good day for us to have that conversation about global warming!

No, they weren’t having a garage sale in the snow. The blue and white flags traditionally celebrate something, in this case Quinn’s safe arrival at age 37.

Looks like we’ll be having some fun!

To express his love for me back in the days leading up to our marriage, Mauri listed a couple of things he loved me more than. His dog, Champagne, was one, and another was his guitar. That was a love language I could understand. I have a collection of pictures of my dear man and his beloved guitar, but these two are the best match for my series series.

Note the wedding band in one and the tattoo in the other.

Back in my early Macy years, when I worked freelance only, I had the time it took to organize all the boxes of family history that over time landed in my possession. I covered every flat surface in every upstairs room with old letters and pictures and documents and biographies. I separated out my dad’s family stuff from my mom’s family stuff. Then I approximated a timeline for each family up through the time my parents discovered each other. My favorite part of the project came next: putting their loves letters in chronological order. My dad was the saver. He not only kept my mother’s beautifully fountain-penned letters but also made a carbon copy of his own typed replies. That’s why I have the complete correspondence. It was fun to note how their love language intensified as their long-distance courtship developed while she finished nurse’s training. [Advice: Be careful what you keep!]

Next I sorted another pile of memorabilia that represented my “family of origin,” as we say now. Eventually all that stuff ended up in large color-coded notebooks, now lovingly referred to as “the archives.”

Last year I invited my siblings to come visit me and spend a little time looking over our family history and to help themselves to whatever pieces drew them. Neither accepted my offer, so here it rests in its entirety, which I suppose is as good a place as any until we downsize and I have to choose between keeping the bed or keeping the family history.

I thought the collection was complete until my cousin from Ohio brought some more goodies to share from her archives. As I glanced through a stack of pictures she had thoughtfully chosen for me, I discovered an image of my grandparents I’d never seen before, so very different from the other poker-faced, straight-laced snapshots of the times. It brought Eugene and Emma Nill to life for me. Real people in joyful, healthy relationship. Playful. Affectionate. It warmed my heart.

Yup, this one goes on the wall!