A Snapshot in Time

For many years now, I have wanted to immortalize my snapshots in time...that is, I have wanted to scan my pictures into our computer and digitize them for life. How much easier life would be with all of those pictures at hand! Teachers could request pictures of their pupil (aka - my child), and I wouldn't have to go through years worth of photo albums to find one from his/her toddler years, or another one in the sport of choice. For the "Star of the Week" event, I could simply email in the four or five pictures, and not have albums lying on my dining room table for the weeks to follow. This was all before I actually spent time beginning this process.
I just spent two entire days scanning and downloading pictures, rotating and cropping them, labeling them, then uploading them to a newly created album. I began the process where common sense dictates - the wedding albums. That is where this life, this family began. And this is where memory lane began.
We were a young couple. I had to laugh at our youthful appearances, not to mention the hair and the outfits. (I have yet to allow my children to look through these albums; I don't think I can handle their laughter quite yet). There were many pictures of people who are mere memories now. There are pictures of couples who are no longer couples, children who are no longer children, friends who are parents, parents who are grandparents. There are pictures of people who have moved in and out of my life, whose faces I hold next to my heart, and others who I struggle to remember their names.
I struggled with how to label these pictures. I kept thinking of the future generations who might one day look at them. Do I label me as "Autumn" or "me"? Do I label my grandparents by their given names, or by "Grandpa" or "Grandma", so that the ghosts of the future know their relation to me? Do I label relatives by their relation, or by their name, so that years from now someone knows how we were all connected? Does any of this really matter; will anyone really care?
I started feeling a little sad at the idea that, try as I might to preserve my life's memories, my future generations will not know me or know the times in which I lived, much the same way I look at old black and whites trying to figure out the place and time of those distant relatives. And I thought, why do we try and preserve this life? What is it that we wish to hold onto or send forth? By the time my great great great grandchild laughs her way through the photos, I will be celebrating my eternity in heaven. I can't explain the background of the snapshot, or who was standing by my side. It's just a thing, an object that remains behind for someone else to clean up.
Or is it? How much have we garnered by looking into the details of a photograph? How much history was learned simply by studying the trends, the inventions, or the people of the times? How connected does a person feel by the knowledge that (s)he resembles a relative of generations ago? How much of today has been changed by the mistakes of the past?
I'll continue to work my way through the many many photo albums that we've built over the years, all in the effort of preserving the life of today for the lives of the future. It will take me days, weeks or even months to scan all of the memories we've put to paper. But I'll do it with a lighter spirit, and label them in a way that makes sense to my future blood, giving them a snapshot of my time.

The Anticipated Beach Trip

Currently, we are traveling back from North Carolina, having just spent a week at the beach with some of our life group. “Some” being exactly twenty two people under one roof, comprised of nine adults and thirteen children. I guess life group sounds so formal, so corporate. I should say that we spent a week at the beach with friends, friends who happen to share lives together.
Looking back, I have to say that all in all, it was a fantastic week! Three families arrived within minutes of each other (Cymbors, Gess’ and Snellgroves), two others (Simins and Stahls) within the hour. Not bad for a nine hour trip from our home town. The excitement and anticipation of this trip was bearing down on us. So after the initial room selections, house exploring, and unpacking, we all hit the beach.
I can’t say that everyday, every family was on the beach. Some (like myself) spent every chance possible on the sand, in the water, or combing the beach. Others came for a little while, then went exploring and sight-seeing to different places in the area. Some liked to spend more time at the pool. Each family moved to their own rhythms, yet these rhythms came together for some beautiful harmonies. Despite the span of ages in the children (five to seventeen), younger interacted with older, boys interacted with girls. Children grasped the hands of the trusted adult nearby, and the adults included any child in close proximity in their adventures or games.
I was, and still am, amazed, after being under the same roof for seven nights, at how well everyone got along. There were very few disciplinary measures needed, mostly occurring from sibling rivalry. But kids were tired, having been up to 11:00 or later most nights. Adults flowed on different schedules, some being early risers, some being night owls. Many people of the group stayed up late playing games together. Kids (but a few adults as well) played the Wii, incredibly working out a turn-taking schedule on their own. Adults (and a few kids) played card or board games around a table, connecting and building relationships. It all worked.
Some words that come to mind for this past week: respect – an understanding that we are all different in many ways, but can all get along; friendship – a growing bond between people, and not necessarily of the same age or gender; laughter – a feeling of goodness and happiness at sharing stories and life with someone else; prayer – the acknowledgement that our higher being, God, is healer, comforter, and the one who blesses us daily; togetherness – being one group of people, sharing laughter, smiles, tears, hopes, dreams, thoughts – yet not having to be in immediate presence of one another.
We have many shared stories of this week –both good and bad (twenty two people in a house where a toilet goes bad, or being in the North Carolina heat in August with the air conditioner not working). We will laugh over little things for many days, weeks and what I hope to be months and years. We can look at each other and know that what we shared this week will keep in our hearts forever. I was able to share my place of peace and serenity with people I love and have grown to love. I have a greater respect for everyone there, for everyone’s daily lives and trials. I have learned to appreciate the togetherness (literally – twenty two people in one house) of those around me, and the bonds we’ve created through our laughter and prayer. What started out as a trip to the beach ended as a journey through a part of my life. That part may seem small in the overall scheme of things, being only a week, but the impact it’s made will remain with me for my lifetime. Thank you friends.

A New Season

I feel like a new season is upon me. Sure, it’s the last weeks of August. I am returning from our last trip of the summer. The back-to-school ads have been out for weeks. If you are local to State College, you know that the Grange Fair is about to start, signaling the end of carefree summer days.

My season is a little different, not quite tangible, yet monumental in many different ways. You see, I am returning from the beach, where I spent my 40th birthday with 21 other friends. The seashore is a place of total comfort, peace, solace and serenity to me. Even being around 21 others, I had a lot of “alone” time, listening to the waves crashing against the shore, much like I felt the last several days of my 30s were doing.

If my thirties were represented by the last week within them, I certainly am happy to see them go. The beach was the only place to rid myself of the daily stresses. Even with thirteen children ranging in age from seventeen to five, I felt peace there. The families that shared in this trip are close to my heart, both physically and in our shared love of Christ. We dove into each other’s lives, learning more, asking more, appreciating more, sharing, playing, walking, eating, drinking, laughing.

I spent the day before my birthday in a contemplative funk. I walked the beach, (always in search of shark teeth, sea glass or beautiful stones found there), pondering what in the world I had accomplished in my 39 years. What have I taught my children? What have I done to grow closer to Jesus? What have I done to improve my life, my disciplines, my relationships? Am I happy just passing through this life doing what I do on a daily basis?

As the sun set and dark approached, we found out that a meteor shower was expected for this night. The kids all settled into their evening routine of playing games. I went out to the deck and sat myself down to watch for the “show”. Within minutes, two others came out, then more, until we finally had all of the adults outside and a few of the older kids (including one of my own). We watched, in awe, at the light show above us, a gift I felt put on specifically for my birthday. A little egotistical, I know, but God knew my funk, and He also knew this would lift me up. We spent hours on that deck, many staying up past midnight (and past their bedtimes) to share in this with me, to be the firsts to wish me a happy birthday.

Accomplishments??? I didn’t need to question them that night. A family that knows my love of natural beauty – the seashore, the sand, the waves, the meteors, and who lovingly and willingly want to participate with me. Friendships that are invested, going deeper than the surface, people with whom I can laugh, cry, pray, and even walk around with morning hair. An awesome God, who knows exactly what I need and when I need it, and even if I feel undeserving, will still delight in showing His splendor.

Am I happy just passing through this life doing what I do on a daily basis? Yes, I can say that I am. I’ve invested well in forty years, and the gains are huge. By no means am I done. I know there are changes I want to make, improvements that are necessary to further my growth in all aspects of my life. Every season has some decay, which is necessary for new, beautiful growth. Entering this new season, I am looking forward to new buds opening, new life blooming.

The Man Cave

I can only guess that it's every man's dream. After all, commercial after commercial shows the man, gaping and wide-eyed, perhaps drooling slightly, at the big screen, surround-sound set up in the store. He no longer hears what is going on in the outside world. Sometimes he even faints dead away. It's more than he can imagine. Dare I say it ranks right up there with sex?

This past summer we had our basement finished into a game room. We have my grandmother's antique shuffleboard table down there, as well as a ping pong and fuseball table. It's a kid-friendly zone, made to withstand the likes of nerf footballs bouncing off the walls, carpet hockey tournaments, toy playing, or good old fashion wrestling. Two weeks ago, however, that all changed with the installation of the flat screen tv and surround sound speakers. Wrestling must stay within a certain area, and I haven't seen many footballs thrown around down there. The sectional sofa separates the game room from the "TV room". This small sitting/TV area has become...The Man Cave.

More evenings than not, I have felt a rumbling along the floor boards of my first floor. My dog has been barking at unusual noises coming up through the heater vents. My family has been devoured by this white door that is at the end of our hallway, the downward stairwell leading them into another world. I peer into that stairwell which they just traveled, but that world remains dark, with only a faint light snaking it's way to where I stand. I have even called them by name, but I swear I can hear my own voice echoing back. No other sound but the rumble from the speakers is heard. I think they are too far into the cave for me to draw them back. I'll have to wait at the entrance for any signs of life.

With the lack of school this week, and a lighter work schedule, my husband and children have had many late nights in front of the big square frame that hangs on the wall. I have tried to join them on occasion, but not being a huge tv watcher, I find myself watching them and their reactions to the movie when it suddenly sounds like it's all happening right in the same room. I've jumped from my seat just from the sounds emanating from the speakers, not because anything scary was happening on the screen. I did watch an entire movie, minus the part where I fell asleep in the middle. It's easy to fall asleep when the lights are out all the time. I turned the lights on once, not realizing the gravity of my mistake. I merely wanted to see where I was going. I now know why it's called a Man Cave - the lights are never on.

So I took a different approach. I tried to enjoy my new exercise dvd on that set up in the basement. I think it took me just as long to figure out the 4 remote controls and how to get the dvd to show up on the tv screen (after all, I could hear it. I just couldn't see it.), as it did for me to do my workout. I need to keep a sheet of paper down there, just to write down the instructions, the channels on which everything should be, as well as the password for the parent-protected channels. And forget about flipping through the channels. If it's not password-protected, then it's the HD equivalent in some high number that I'll never remember.

Ultimately, I know that the excitement and passion of this new setup with eventually pass. As a family, we just aren't huge tv watchers. This week I've learned that come 8:00, my husband will quietly enter through that white door at the end of the hall, down the stairwell, and make his escape to that darkened, underground world, to a place where loud rumblings and digital media coexist. It's his time to unwind, glaze over, perhaps even drool. As loud as the sound system gets, I know he has tuned out the outside world. If he's not in bed in the middle of the night, I'll know he has fainted dead away. I wonder if one of those remotes can set an alarm?

A New Year's Song

Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? As the year closes, I have a lot to remember and for which to be thankful. So many memories made with my children and husband. Taking trips with my family. Time spent with neighbors and friends. A new church branch beginning and spurting with growth. Another year of celebrating birthdays. Health. Love. Forgiveness. Grace.

I have an old acquaintance that I never forgot, and old friend that was always in my mind. My earliest memories contain memories of her. My first birthday party pictures always have her smiling by my side, or playing with my toys. My first trip to the emergency room was from an accident on her porch. My earliest sleepovers were with her. My first days of school always included walking with her to the busstop and waiting for our bus. We shared secrets, big wheels, mud pies, ball games, music... We played, we laughed, and we loved. We also grew apart.

I went away to college, she went into the workforce. I moved away from our hometown, she stayed. We tried. We tried not to grow apart, we tried to remain true to each other, but life had other ideas. It happened. We lost touch, we lost communication, we lost each other. We lost our sisterhood.

We moved along in life, marrying, having children and becoming the moms we always talked about. Our kids would grow up to be best friends, we said. We'll grow old and gray together, we said. Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

As the years have gone by, so many times I've picked up the phone and put it back down. I've written letters that only got torn up and thrown away. I've run into her and made small talk, only to walk away feeling empty and sad inside. Old acquaintances should never be forgotten! This one time, I didn't hang up the phone. I left a message. This one time I didn't throw the card away. I put a stamp on it and mailed it. She didn't forget. I didn't forget.

As the year draws to a close, I've rekindled a friendship that has been a missing part of my life for 20 years. Why so long? We don't know. We're not wasting time on the "if only's" or the "what if's". We have a lot of years to make up. Our kids must meet each other, and though I don't expect they'll be best friends, they have shared stories that link them in ways of which they are not even aware. We'll grow older and grayer together. We've forgiven, and we've extended grace to each other, as we've been given grace from above. We're learning to love each other again. She's like the long lost sister for whom I've been waiting to come home. My heart was always open, and it has welcomed her back in.

Who Needs Sleep?

Yawn...I am typing this and trying to stay awake at the same time. It's not late. It's just that I've been getting up early this week - REALLY early. I have begun my spring/summer ritual of powerwalking during the early morning hours. When I say early morning, my alarm goes off at 5:05 am, and I am on the pavement by 5:30 am. Waking this early is not an easy task for me. I am a 'day' person - not arising early, not staying up too late. But I am held accountable by walking with friends, who ARE morning people.

I am enjoying my morning walks. I've spent most of the days walking with one friend, who typically is a runner, but is restricted to walking for a few weeks. I feel blessed by her presence. She is full of energy and zest, singing, laughing and pleasant at this early hour. Me...not so much. I flat out told her this morning that I didn't know whether to laugh with her or tell her to shut up. I decided to laugh. It brightened my dismally tired mood and lightened my step.

The sun is not quite above the horizon at this hour. There is still a slight hue of dark blue/gray to the sky. There is a hush to the neighborhood. The dampness of the dew feels refreshing once we've been going awhile. Our voices echo off the hills and get lost in the woods. On a few mornings, we've caught sight of deer crossing the street. There may be the stray car that passes on it's way to another destination, but otherwise, we have command of the streets. It's the sweetness of these early mornings that we share our life stories: what happened the day before, what we have planned for the current day, how we deal with our children or husbands, what the doctor said, how we appreciate our parents, how to spit (surely a runner's thing). It's peaceful, blissful. It's what I need before the craziness of the day begins. I don't want to admit that I am beginning to enjoy that hour of the day. But I think I just did.

By the end of the hour, the sun is up, and we feel the stir of the day beginning. Sweat is pouring from our skin, but we've solved some of life's issues in that time together. I am fully awake and alive, laughing and looking forward to another day of walking. Until, of course, the alarm goes off.

Ring Around the...

I recently spent an afternoon shopping, which is usually an enjoyable task for me. However, this particular time was a little different. It was my annual hunt for the right swimsuit. I don't need another suit, but swimsuits to me are like shoes for some women, or purses for others. Actually, I did need new black bottoms, so my idea was to find a pair of bottoms, and match it with a different top than what I already have at home. What I found was a whole different experience.

I don't know why I don't remember this year to year, but swimsuits do NOT run in the size that a woman normally wears. If I tried on the same size in which my year round clothing runs, I would cut off my circulation. Why is that? Why don't swimsuit manufacturers try the vanity sizing that all other clothing companies have gone into? It's not enough that most women are self-conscience anyway regarding how they look when wearing very little clothing in public. But now we have to go up in sizes just to find something that doesn't leave deep red rings around our thighs or back. It's a blow to our self-esteem.

And while I am on the subject of how suits fit, who invented the woman's swimsuit anyway? Why is it that 95% of men wear long, loose shorts (the other 5% should!) that could pass as everyday clothing, but women wear something akin to their underwear? We can't throw on a t-shirt and get into a restaurant dressed that way. Spend too much time in the sun, and the parts that shouldn't or don't normally see the sunlight get painfully burnt. (Then try wearing the undergarments after that!).

My trip ended with me trying on one size larger and finding it to be small, then trying on two sizes larger and finding it too big. There's nothing enjoyable about seeing yourself in the "too small" suit, in the three-way mirror, under the flurescent lights of the dressing room. However, when trying on the bigger size first, I did feel a little lighter, a little firmer, a little tanner (for some reason). I guess I can be glad that I need that inbetween size - my winter workouts have paid off slightly. Not enough, though, to want to walk around in my underwear at the public pool. Anyway, I didn't find black bottoms that fit properly, but I did come home with a cute bathing suit top. My search will continue, but at least this time I'll know what to expect.