It’s that time of the year again when holiday cards are exchanged (send me one and you’re gonna get one). And so, Shutterfly’s 30% Off promotion dangled in front of me, we once again received 100 holiday cards and envelopes, we bought 100 holiday themed postage stamps (two for a dollar), and out they went.
This year’s card reflects a new address, a new grandbabygirl, and the usual cast of characters. The compulsory family mob shot is enacted twice – once seriously, and the other just a little less seriously (sic). Nellie B. Johnstone (aka, da dawg) was not afforded even the smallest of spaces on this year’s card and has been nigh on inconsolable, whining and howling all the live long day. The aforementioned family mob shot was taken at the luncheon we hosted 10 years following my August 2009 spinal injury — my Tenth Accidentiversary. Everyone stateside was on hand, and our Swedes (daughter Emily and her family) Skyped-in for the ceremonial remarks (and just a look at the delicious crab cakes). Not a dry eye in the house, as they say.
Despite that celebration — and there is a lot to celebrate — and my other clever non-sense, it has been a challenging year. Prevailing winds have often blown me into the doldrums, and my emotional rudder was often stuck hard-left, leaving me to circle there. On one of those days, I came across a few bytes of writing, set down by my daughter Ginny. They were a tonic for me, and I share her post with you. Even the Stones.
God’s goodness crowns the year. I bid you the happiest of holiday seasons, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
I read and shared this Spurgeon M&E 5 years ago today when I was in the hospital for a few phased holiday surgical procedures a la derriere. In all, laid up for 40 days. As encouraging today as then. I hope you’ll find it so.
Isaiah 41:10 — Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Believer, till thou canst drain dry the ocean of omnipotence, till thou canst break into pieces the towering mountains of almighty strength, thou never needest to fear. . . . The same God who directs the earth in its orbit, who feeds the burning furnace of the sun, and trims the lamps of heaven, has promised to supply thee with daily strength. . . . Shall he that created the world grow weary? He hangeth the world upon nothing; shall he who doth this be unable to support his children? Shall he be unfaithful to his word for want of power? Who is it that restrains the tempest? Doth not he ride upon the wings of the wind, and make the clouds his chariots, and hold the ocean in the hollow of his hand? How can he fail thee? When he has put such a faithful promise as this on record, wilt thou for a moment indulge the thought that he has outpromised himself, and gone beyond his power to fulfil? Ah, no! Thou canst doubt no longer.
O thou who art my God and my strength, I can believe that this promise shall be fulfilled, for the boundless reservoir of thy grace can never be exhausted, and the overflowing storehouse of thy strength can never be emptied by thy friends or rifled by thine enemies.
C.S. Spurgeon. M&E 22 December
Late afternoon thunderstorms put the kibosh on Capon Springs and Farms 7/4 fireworks, and power outage killed electricity and the elevator.
As plan B, lovely heroic Alice and I found lodgings a half hour drive away at the Winchester Marriott Courtyard where there was power and cooling a-plenty. Back to Capon late Thursday morning to conclude our final day in WV.
In fact, power was restored at CSF Wednesday evening, so the rest of the gang on grounds was able to run fans and stay reasonably cool. The elevator service was not restored until this morning. Grateful to have had options.
It is a reasonably warm morning in Capon Springs, WV, site of many an extended family vacation since 1994. The kids’ Fourth of July parade has wound its way down to the Main House. A costumed dramatic proclamation of Independence has been Declared. The stars and stripes have been raised to a rousing hand-to-heart rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. And last night’s fast has been broken by eggs any style and Wednesday’s French toast.
With a gob of hard-fought, dearly won (others’), grateful (mine) patriotism, with the anticipated retinal after-images of sparklers and fireworks bursts and their post-boom concussive ringing in my ears, with the smoky airborne bouquet of chicken, burgers and dogs on the grill only
a few hours away, and wearing my red, white and blue ensemble, I hail you all, my family and friends near and abroad.
Happy Independence Day!
Yetanotherversary. These always seem to slip by me.
8 years (and 2 days) ago, I started back to work. A man, his wheelchair, and a circus cannon. Three employer labels later, grateful to God, family, great docs, nurses, PTs, OTs, Seating Specialists – –
and for a host of exceptional colleagues.
Nine years a fairly high-functioning quadriplegic, and operating in the realm of project management, I appreciated not only the mission, but also the value placed on input from stakeholders: academics, designers, scaled-up manufacturers, parts suppliers, service and repair resources, and disabled end users.
Advent and stones?
What might the connection be between dry, dusty stones and the restoration of a hopeless, weary world? You might thing this an oddly-timed question, especially as we’re revving up for that “most wonderful time of the year.” You know, “the hap-happiest season of all.” Well, with all due respect to Andy Williams, as with much that God has for us, things are not always as they seem. Sharing an insightful meditation written by my daughter, Ginny, that – as you crack it open – I hope will encourage you.
Even The Stones
In May of 1970, my dad (the tall guy), his Chevrolet colleagues, John Owens and Don Freeman, along with Richard Owens and me, presented Ted Williams, then Coach of the Washington Senators, with the Ted Williams Story film shown that April on channel 7, the local ABC affiliate and sponsored by Chevrolet. I’m not sure the actual film reel was in the canister. Richard and I each received a personalized TW-autographed baseball and picture taken in the team dugout. We watched that evening’s game from prime third baseline seats, only a dozen or so rows up. The scale of the stadium, crowd, and the goings on was mesmerizing. I remember seeing a wicked foul ball nail a lady chatting away just a few yards from us. Knocked her out mid-sentence, and they carried her out on a stretcher. I paid very close attention during each at bat from that point on.
My Thanksgiving’s Friday,
Cuz I’m still in the coop.
My buddy got it in the neck,
And now he’s in the soup.
Attribution to Betty Marvin