Granny Jane Junction: February 2009

Monday, February 16, 2009

February Happenings

Dear friends and family - Mom and Dad emailed to remind me I had not updated my blog in a while, so here is a February update. The picture above was taken at the Father Daughter Valentine Dance on February 6th. Every year Bill takes his girls to this event - this was around the 15th year he has taken them! This year he gave them beautiful necklaces and little fancy-event purses that I shopped for and he "wrapped" in tissue and gift bags. He had them over for dinner first, though Erin couldn't make it as she was running late. They obviously had a great time, though Bill told me he got a bit winded from dancing this year.

In the meantime, I picked up Nathan after work around 1 p.m. that day, and had a marvelous afternoon and evening being grandma. He was in a great mood, and even took a couple of little 45 minute naps, at which time I also rested. He has developed quite an engaging smile and is experimenting with making happy noises, including his own special laugh. He grins a lot, and every time he just makes my own face split in a grin - he is so handsome and special! I wish I had some updated pictures to place here, but somehow I don't have any recent ones. I will see if I can post SOMETHING with him in it!

Also, we have had several storms in the last few weeks, and Julie talked us into driving up to the mountains through Porterville to Camp Nelson to get closer to the awesome mountains with all the snow. I know, to some of you snow is old hat, but for those of us living "under the cloud" in the valley, where we hardly even see the mountains though we are surrounded by them, and snow is a mythical substance, we have had quite a treat the last few weeks - the mountains are so clear they seem close enough to touch! And they are covered with snow. So we went to the snow, and threw some lovely light powder snow balls at each other and little Abby, who dodged them better than we did! I got a pretty miserable case of car sickness on the way down, the first I've had in a long time, but I think I have recovered now.

On every day matters, I am still trudging along in my APNC group (Pastor Nominating Committee) as we've had several potential candidates just not work out. We have one more "in the hopper" for early March, and hopefully that will be the one! Also, I'm still waiting on news from the Community Bible Study Area Director on whether I am approved to go to training in Colorado Springs in April for an Associate Teaching Director position I agreed (after prayer) to accept.

Julie is at work today, though Bill and I have the day off due to the holiday. Julie's job working for accountants means there are no vacations from January 2nd through April 14th. They get a vacation day on April 15th! (or is it the 16th?) Anyway, Bill has a pretty miserable cold, so while we went out to run just a few short errands earlier today, we've mostly spent the day indoors out of the wind and rain. Bill has been looking up stuff on the internet, while I have finished reading another fantasy fiction book and taking a nap, as I didn't get to bed until 2:45 this morning (reading). Friday night was game nite for the fam, where we had pizza and played "Life", then Saturday night (Valentines Day), Julie went to Em and Jeff's for dinner and a movie, while Erin and Scott came over and made southwest enchilladas and refrieds, then we played two games of Starfarers of Catan. The 2nd game didn't finish until around 1 a.m. Bill shouldn't have stayed up as his cold was getting worse, but he did, and as a result, he had to sleep upright in a recliner and stayed home doing nothing on Sunday until Julie talked him into going to the mountains. I just keep taking preventatives (airborne, vitamins and ointment for my nose) and so far, knock on wood, I have stayed healthy.

Finally, Emily, Jeff and Scott, who all have government paid jobs, still have their jobs as of today. I think Emily's job is pretty secure, and Jeff thinks his is as well, but Scott's job is newer, and we are praying the continuing economic difficulties the state is trying to deal with won't put them in jeopardy. I just heard on the news as I type this that because the state can't pass a budget, over 20,000 government jobs including the departments Jeff and Scott work in, will be lost starting immediately. Such hard times!

On a happier note, here is a picture from 1/23/09 of my grandson. With that I will publish this post! jane

Spheres of Glass, by Erin McArdle

We are spheres of glass, these souls, blown from the very breath of heaven. Each one of us is dipped, shoved into the painful heat of the glory hole, shaped on a hardened plate of steel, rounded out with just the right amount of pressure, and then, while we are still pliable, the air is pushed through us, filling us with volume, with shape, and if the artisan desires, a crackled color is then applied. I...I am a bright turquoise with red and orange piping. There's a bit of sunset yellow that glows somewhere inside, along with a bit of that color that pauses on the horizon somewhere between twilight and the final whisper of the last ray of sunlight.
Once we are set in the hay to slow dry, we either crack slightly or come out crystal and shining. I used to think I wanted to be crystal clear. Now I think I prefer a little bit of character, and some very serious color.
God sets us on the earth, hands us our precious ball of delicately blown glass (just one to start with), and asks us to walk along side him. He points out the visions of life, whether we are listening or not, presenting us with opportunity beyond our imagination. We are watching the starlight sparkle within, the sun and moon glitter across, all the while taking each step with care as we hold our gift. Many times the ball drops. Many times the sphere we spend so much effort protecting breaks, and Oh Lord, how unthinkable that must be...
I stand somewhere in the middle of a New York style street, staring at the shattered pieces of glass, the noise - a blur fading into the background, trying to pick them up, hands bleeding with every shard scraped off the horrid, burning pavement. Heart beat desperate to turn back time, to fix my mistakes, to move a little quicker, to hold onto my precious sphere. some of it has ground itself in and the powder is blown away under the hell of the wretched summer heat. I gather what I can and leave the rest. I empty it into a small bag. There are so many pieces as my feet crunch across the ground, and I wonder whose soul they belonged to, and if they really wanted them back and just couldn't get them or if they lost the ability to care after trying for so long to preserve it.
Somewhere along the way I find a side street and a bottle of superglue, revlon nail formula. Laughing out loud, I seriously thought it would work...for about 30 seconds. The ultra bonding substance could hold limbs together, but not the shattered pieces of me. As I stood there, almost hopeless, two thoughts came to mind: 1st-a clear bag. Definitely zip-lock, definitely tear proof. But then, as I grow older, I realize that nothing can tear proof the soul, or the heart that feeds upon it. 2nd-I have to find the glass blower. The artisan. He will be saddened to see such a mess, but there is a small twinkle in his eye, much like Ollivanders, that keeps the desperate hope I cling to from fading.
His shop is filled with gadgets...time collectors, tear drop measurers, colorful bits and baubles unrecognizable to me. Beautiful and aged. The room has that yellow glow to it, like the end of a sepia toned summer day on its last spark. He takes my bag, pours the remains into the glory hole and we watch it melt. I have done this many times before. And I am lost for words every time. But he knows. I can see it in the lines on his perfectly wrinkled face. He always knows. Slowly, he takes the rod and swirls it into the liquid glass, creating a new sphere - knowing in time I will break this one too, but making it just as pristine as the very first. He looks at me for just a moment before gazing at the colors he might add to it. This time, the piping is jet black, and the glass is of a sparkling mist. Somewhere I see the old hint of turquoise, and a hidden stripe of autumn. He finishes my ball and sets it to cool...Carefully he puts his tools back in their place, and then turns to me. He has not said a word, nor have I. We use the small sink to rinse my hands, the aloe plant sacrifices a limb for me.
And here I sit, like the fainting phoenix, waiting to rise from the ashes, as the glass cools and takes on its new shape and plethora of colors. Eventually the time will come, and he will hand it back to me-this new and old gift.
And somewhere down the road, it will come to pass that I will need to come back here again, perhaps slightly less battered. But I should make my way back here again. And maybe next time, it will only be to add on a bit of color - something more golden and starlit - or maybe, just maybe, he'll hand me another to carry.