Mauri and Sherry

A friend, the one who has encouraged us for somewhere between several and many years to travel to Iona, just stopped by to say bon voyage, give me a farewell hug, and hand me an envelope with a joyful note and some ready-to-spend “travelers cheques.”

Anyone care to follow suit?

Just kidding.

No, no, really, I’m just kidding.

If you’re a veteran blog reader, you probably already have your favorite sites in a “feed reader.” I’ve been reading blogs a long time, but I’ve been slow in subscribing to the reader Mauri’s been using for a while now. But I finally got inspired, and logged on to newsgator.com. I love the dramatic sound of this statement: It revolutionized my blog reading! Oh my, my—I’m a believer! It took only one rerun of Monk minus commercials to copy the addresses of my favorite blogs and add them as feeds in newsgator. Whereas I used to go down my list of bookmarked blogs, opening each one to see if something new was posted, now I click on newsgator and it tells me if a new post has been added to any of my feeds. I click on it and can read it right there in the window, even the pictures. If I want to go to the site, I’m there in one more click.

If I’m the last person online to discover this amazing time saver, well you can all have a good har-dee har on me. But if my enthusiasm inspires you to check it out, then all the words I’ve typed have not been in vain.

My friend Ridgely turned 60 yesterday. We had sent her a little something to commemorate her life to this point, and it turns out she sent me something too, though my birthday is months away. Our packages criss-crossed in the mail.

Here’s what Ridge sent me on her birthday.

Socks! She knit me socks! I am a sock lover. One Christmas years and years ago son Taylor gave me a box of socks, and I haven’t forgotten how much it meant that he paid attention. But no one’s ever knitted me a pair.

Since I am not a knitter, the accomplishment is magnified in the mystery of the creation. Yet Ridge enclosed a hand-written note explaining why one toe had more aqua than the other toe. Did you notice that? I have to be honest now and admit I like them better because of the slight imperfection (which, by the way, had nothing to do with Ridgely’s needlework and everything to do with the wool dyer). Perfection is boring, and that’s why I strive so to avoid it.

Happy birthday, friend!

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.

Bethany asked her husband, Bryan: “What do I wear on a date with three married men?”

Her dates—Mauri, Howard, and Nate—concurred she chose well. Here they are on their way to Portland to hear jazz icon Dave Brubeck.

Dave is nearly 90 years old; each member of the quartet had a full, or approximately full, head of white hair. But according to Mauri’s animated report, age has only improved their musical gifts. An evening to remember.

PS: Here’s Bethany’s first-hand report. Don’t miss it.

We’ve reserved our week at The Iona Community, we’ve purchased our plane tickets, our passports are in our hot little hands, and now it’s time for the nitty gritty planning. When we mentioned to our friends David and Carol Sherwood that we plan to travel to Scotland and England in June, they immediately suggested an evening at their home. Their bright eyes revealed a great love for that part of the world, and they have photo albums and maps and stories to share.

The carrot soup (a Scottish specialty) tasted so good we thought it was the meal but out came roast and mashed potatoes and gravy and other mouth-watering dishes. By dessert our weight-watching resolve had all but disappeared. What’s an extra pound or two among friends?

Mauri got his dog fix with Lucy, the Sherwoods’ labradoodle. She’s very cute, and, since she belongs to someone else, I liked her too.

Time passed quickly as we caught David and Carol’s enthusiasm.

Carol had given us the advance directive to kick her or simply nod off if we got bored with their pictures and stories.

Of course that wasn’t gonna happen. They loaned us their maps and book on The Iona Community to help us dream together about our own adventure, which will, of course, include learning how to drive on the “wrong” side of the road. Mauri said I could practice here. Or maybe I should just watch this a couple hundred times.

Our long-time friend Norma Collins asked me to write Mauri’s and my love story for the February issue of a Youth for Christ newsletter. Here it is:

Love stories are like snowflakes—plentiful yet unique. Mauri and I enjoy telling our unique love story because it clearly illustrates God’s faithfulness to us through good times and hard times. You’d need a cup of coffee and probably lunch if I were to share the whole story. Even if we had enough time and space, no amount of words could express, for example, the affirmation I felt when my first mother-in-law, having recently lost her only child to cancer, gave me a wink of approval after suggesting I pursue a relationship with “that man you sing with.”

“Mauri and I were friends in high school.” That’s what I tell people unfamiliar with our history. The “romantics” often ask if we dated. (No, but there was that one kiss at Winona Lake at the YFC convention.) We actually met as co-members of a startup performance group called “The Spurrlows”—I, as a singer; Mauri, as a trombonist. This experience led to involvement in early-morning YFC club meetings and YFC rallies, which eventually led to the unforgettable experience of serving together on a YFC Teen Team to Asia in 1964.

Between Mauri’s good memory and my good packratting, we’ve pieced together a decent representation of those days. Whenever we review it, we see God’s hand of care and blessing on us, both then and in what lay ahead. On our return from overseas, Mauri rode a train to Newberg, Oregon, to start his freshman year at George Fox College (now University). There he met, and eventually married, Margaret-Rose Williams. I took a job as receptionist at the Youth for Christ International office in Wheaton, where I met, and eventually married, Paul Carlson, advertising manager of Campus Life Magazine. Each couple added three children to the population. Through the years, the Macys and the Carlsons stayed connected through our annual Christmas letters and pictures.

Sadly, losing a spouse to cancer became another common bond Mauri and I shared. A year after Margaret-Rose died, Paul and I, with our younger son, Taylor, made the journey from our home in Michigan to Newberg for a church-related convention held on the George Fox campus. Of course, we looked up our friend Mauri, who invited me to sit at his studio piano to sing some of our old familiar duets, songs he and Margaret-Rose learned to sing together. We have pictures of that session, Paul behind the lens. Try to imagine how poignant those pictures are to us today. Little did we know!

Fast forward to the scene I described in the opening paragraph. In the months that separated Paul’s death from that of both of his parents (they were 88 and 89) we saw and felt other inclinations toward the idea that our friendly relationship might grow into, um, something more. I traveled to Oregon to allow us the necessary time to discern what our future might hold. We listened to our own hearts along with the input from our children and friends. Their resounding Yes! helped us move toward marriage.

Fairy tales end with “…and they lived happily ever after.” But we live in the real world where blended families have challenges. Ours is not perfect; it felt some bumps in the beginning but has blossomed into what I’d call nearly perfect. We’re still glowing from the precious time we had together as a family in the Colorado Rockies at Christmastime—another tangible affirmation of God’s great faithfulness to us.

Mauri’s in his fourth and final week at the coast. You’ve seen some of the camera shots he’s passed my way (the last series included). Here are a couple from this morning. He took this one before morning prayers…

…and this one after morning prayers.

Nice, huh? He’s had another good experience being part of the leadership of the January retreats. I’m real glad for this opportunity…for him and for me. While the cat’s away the mouse does projects. These usually involve pulling things out of the attic or the closets to sort and reorganize or toss. With Mauri’s blessing I added two boxes of MMR Ministries envelopes to the recycle bin. MMR Ministries was the singing ministry of Mauri and Margaret-Rose. So, maybe we don’t need to keep those envelopes longer than 20 years for sentimental reasons. Or these either:

The leftover pictures from our wedding invitations. We’ve changed a lot in 13.5 years.

Since I’ve been releasing attachments to stuff, maybe you can help me decide whether to keep or toss these:

It’s just a bowl of blocks, you say? Would it be just as meaningful to keep this?

A picture of the building accomplishments of son Ben 36 years ago.

I have a pretty good idea of his response to that question. “You mean to tell me you’ve packed and moved those blocks from Tallahassee to Durham to Weaverville to Waynesville to Chattanooga to Grand Rapids to Newberg?” Right, Ben?

Everyone should be lucky enough to have a friend like Susan. Yesterday she stopped by the office to gift me in the spirit of the holiday. She passed this bag to me while I passed one to her. This we call a gift exchange.

She wanted to wait while I opened hers so she could offer explanation. She knows a few things about me, such as where I carry my cell phone and that we’re planning some foreign travel next summer. She wanted to pass along some of the tips she’s picked up through her years of overseas travel. She knew I’d need a place to carry not only my phone but my passport, my camera, some extra money, maybe a lipstick or some hand lotion. I was now properly prepped to open this:

In case the photo doesn’t accurately display its proportions, this bra is a size 44DDD. Adequate room for all of the above-mentioned necessities and oh so much more.

After adding two years to my life from all the laughter, she suggested I open my real present:

…a security neck pouch.

Everyone should be lucky enough to have a friend like Susan.

Every year since 1970 I’ve written and mailed a Christmas letter and picture(s) to family and friends as a way of staying connected. Turns out that’s how Mauri and I knew so much about each other while we enjoyed friendship through the annual letters the Carlson family sent to the Macy family and the annual letters the Macy family sent to the Carlson family. But that’s a story for another time. For now I’ll just include our 2007 Christmas letter here for you to open and read if you want.