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In our language, the meaning of 'hag' has been distorted. Among the Kells (my mother was Irish), it is the final stage in the life of a woman. There are three: The Maiden/Virgin, untaken, untamed, wild and free. She's full of fire, dreams, visions and kinetic energy. She is the Waxing Moon. The Matron, in the full maturity of her child-bearing years. She is the great earth mother, the lover, the comforter, the healer. She is the Full Moon. The Hag. Seasoned and wise in the ways of the world, she holds her blood and sometimes her tongue. She enjoys honor and respect among those who hold her favor, and fear/caution among those who have earned her ire. She is the Waning Moon. I take The Hag for Hag Struan, a character in James Clavell's novel Tai-Pan, my favorite of his works. The Hag was born a Brock, which made her marriage into the Struan clan a Hatfield-McCoy heresy. The Brocks and Struans were rival shipping magnates in Scotland during the early days of China trade. The Hag was widowed young and stepped to the helm of Struan shipping, to keep them on top of her birth family. She was a tough, clear-minded, straight from the shoulder kind of lady. I admired her strength, her dignity and her dedication to her family against all odds. I'd have a very long way to go, indeed, before I could be in her league, but the name inspires me and I aim to do her proud. *************** For God sent NOT his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. [JOHN 3:17] Peace to All. The Hag ......................................  .......................................... |
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We Never Believed...
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Dec 22, 2006 7:40 am
Mood: contemplative,
397 Views
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...in the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, the Boogie-Man or in Santa Claus. We didn't believe because my father didn't hold with lying in any form. It was a far more subtle and complicated issue than that, however.
One quiet, rainy Saturday in the fall of 1921, my Daddy and Big Daddy Sam, his father, got up early as usual, harnessed the team to the wagon and drove into town to do their week's tradin'. On their way home, talking of their life of every day, Big Daddy was stricken by a massive heart attack. He was dead when he hit the floor of the wagon. My father was 14 years old.
The Madding men are dedicated, family-oriented men and the uncles stepped in to help Big Mama as much as they could, and to provide support and guidance for young William. However, they had families of their own and the conditions of the Great Depression already existed in the south. Daddy had to grow up on the spot and assume the responsibility for his mother and three younger sisters. He was the one who sat down with them later that year and explained why Santa Claus wouldn't be paying them a visit as in years past. Then and there he vowed his own children would never undergo this particular disappointment.
Daddy adored all children and there was no such thing to him as a baby being too small or too young for him to be able to handle it. He diapered (using cloth diapers) in the tri-corner fashion, with one pin in place in front but, so clothed, that child could then walk, crawl, roll or wrestle and that diaper would stay securely in place. He loved playing games with them, laughing and teasing, filling their eyes and lives with as much joy and wonder as he could create. He preserved - even enhanced - the magic of Christmas for my brother and me, and later his grandchildren, by telling us the absolute truth. He'd take us to the master bedroom and show us the bags and cardboard boxes hiding our various gifts, as he explained, "Now, those are your presents that you'll get on Christmas morning, when Mama's had time to wrap them up all nice and pretty for you - but there is no Santy Claus. Mama and Daddy work to buy what we can for you, but your Christmas is just like your food and clothes, it has to be paid for in the very same way." Thus it was that, as we grew and came to better understand the sacrifices they made for us, we had a deeper and better appreciation, both of the gifts we received and our father's integrity.
He loved the beauty of Christmas. My favorite among our family traditions were the sight-seeing excursions we'd take with him all over town after dark, searching out the best, brightest, most beautiful of the Christmas light displays. I do this now to enjoy not only the lights, but those wonderful memories of his joy and laughter. He embodied the magic and the spirit perfectly - the spirit of generosity and love.
...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo...
(continued below)
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You've Heard About It All Your Life...
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Dec 22, 2006 7:34 am
Mood: cheerful,
404 Views
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...now here it is, in its entirety:
Is There a Santa Claus?
From the Editorial Page of The New York Sun,
written by Francis P. Church, September 21, 1897
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the
communication below, expressing at the same time our
great gratification that its faithful author is
numbered among the friends of The Sun:
"Dear Editor--I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa
Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in The Sun, it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West Ninety-fifth Street
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have
been affected by the scepticism of a sceptical age.
They do not believe except they see. They think that
nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their
little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be
men's or children's are little. In this great
universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his
intellect, as compared with the boundless world about
him, as measured by the intelligence capable of
grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as
certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist,
and you know that they abound and give to your life
its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be
the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be
as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would
be no child-like faith then, no poetry, no romance to
make tolerable this existence. We should have no
enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal
light with which childhood fills the world would be
extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not
believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire
men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to
catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa
Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees
Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no
Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are
those that neither children nor men can see. Did you
ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not,
but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody
can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are
unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes
the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the
unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the
united strength of all the strongest men that ever
lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry,
love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view
and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is
it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is
nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives
forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay,
ten times ten thousand years from now, he will
continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
from The Hag
Jesus is the Reason for the Season!
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History for A Special Friend
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Dec 20, 2006 12:14 am
404 Views
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MOOD: Flattered
My Handle and Why I Chose It
In our language, the meaning of 'hag' has been distorted. Among the Kells (my mother was Irish), it is the final stage in the life of a woman. There are three: The Maiden/Virgin, untaken, untamed, wild and free. She's full of fire, dreams, visions and kinetic energy. She is the Waxing Moon. The Matron, in the full maturity of her child-bearing years. She is the great earth mother, the lover, the comforter, the healer. She is the Full Moon. The Hag. Seasoned and wise in the ways of the world, she holds her blood and sometimes her tongue. She enjoys honor and respect among those who hold her favor,
and fear/caution among those who have earned her ire. She is the Waning Moon.
I take The Hag for Hag Struan, a character in James Clavell's novel Tai-Pan, my favorite of his works. The Hag was born a Brock, which made her
marriage into the Struan clan a Hatfield-McCoy heresy. The Brocks and Struans were rival shipping magnates in Scotland during the early days of China trade. The Hag was widowed young and stepped to the helm of Struan shipping, to keep them on top of her birth family. She was a tough, clear-minded, straight from the shoulder kind of lady. I admired her strength, her dignity and her dedication to her family against all odds. I'd have a very long way to go, indeed, before I could be in her league, but the name inspires me and I aim to do her proud.
***************
Begging the indulgence of you, Dear Friends, who already are familiar with the origin of my handle, and still wishing each of you a happy, holy and blessed Christmas - and all Good's best in the New Year!
Thanks for your patience!
The Hag
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An Officially Military Family
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Dec 19, 2006 2:24 am
441 Views
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MOOD: Humble
It's a done deal, now - we are officially a military family, as my great-nephew Joe has successfully completed his basic training at Paris Island, GA and has become a bona fide member of the U.S. Marine Corps. Right now, he's safely back home in Tennessee, working at the local recruiting office through the Christmas holiday. Our information is that his first deployment will be to Okinawa in January and we are praying no changes will be made in those arrangements. Joe has dreamed of, studied and prepared for this future since he was a very young boy. It's the only career for which he's planned - the only one he's ever considered. We're as proud of him as we are afraid for him, and so many of you know exactly what we feel. God guard, guide, help and protect every God-fearing soul in uniform, fighting for right anywhere on this planet tonight.
***************
I've seen this recitation performed by three very fine artists: Tex Ritter, Red Foley and Red Sovine, In each instance the narrative was demonstrated with exquisite skill and dexterity. Each of them placed a photo of an enlisted man in uniform as the final 'card' in the deck and caringly laid it atop the deck on the table, with their final words being: "I knew that soldier." This rendition, we are told, was recorded by T. Texas Tyler. The power of the piece remains.
Deck of Cards
NARRATIVE:
During the North African campaign, a bunch of
soldier boys had been on a long hike and they arrived in a little town called Cascina. The next morning being Sunday, several of the boys went to Church. A sergeant commanded the boys in Church and after the Chaplain had read the prayer, the text was
taken up next.
Those of the boys who had a prayer book took them
out, but this one boy had only a deck of cards, and so he spread
them out. The Sergeant saw the cards and said, "Soldier put away those cards." After the service was over, the soldier was taken prisoner and brought before the Provost Marshall.
The Marshall said, "Sergeant, why have you brought the man
here?" "For playing cards in church, Sir." "And what have you got to say for yourself, son?" "Much, Sir." Replied the soldier. The Marshall said, "I hope so, for if not I shall punish you more
than any man was ever punished."
The soldier said, "Sir, I've been on the march for about six
days, I had neither Bible nor prayer book, but I hope to satisfy you, Sir, with the purity of my intentions." With that, the boy started his story:
...You see Sir, when I look at the "ACE", it reminds
me that there is but one God;
...And the "DEUCE" reminds me that the Bible is
divided into two parts; The Old and the New Testaments;
...And when I see the "TREY", I think of the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Ghost;
...And when I see the "FOUR", I think of the four
Evangelists who preached the Gospel. There was Matthew, Mark, Luke and John;
...And when I see the "FIVE", it reminds me of the five wise virginians who trimmed their lamps. There were ten of them, five
were wise and were saved. Five were foolish and were shut out;
...And when I see the "SIX", it reminds me that in six
days, God made this great heaven and earth;
...When I see the "SEVEN", it reminds me that on the
seventh day, God rested from His great work;
...And when I see the "EIGHT", I think of the eight
righteous persons God saved when He destroyed this earth. There was Noah, his wife, their three sons and their wives;
...And when I see the "NINE", I think of the lepers our Saviour cleansed. And nine out of the ten didn't even thank Him.
...When I see the "TEN", I think of the Ten Commandments God handed down to Moses on a tablet of stone;
...When I see the "KING", it reminds me that there is
but one King of Heaven, God Almighty;
...And when I see the "QUEEN", I think of the Blessed
Virginian Mary, who is Queen of Heaven;
...And the "JACK" or "KNAVE" is the Devil;
...When I count the number of spots on a deck of
cards, I find 365, the number of days in a year;
...There's 52 cards, the number of weeks in a year;
...There's 4 suits, the number of weeks in a month;
...There's 12 picture cards, the number of months in a
year;
...There's 13 tricks, the number of weeks in a
quarter;
...So you see, Sir, my pack of cards serves me as a
Bible, Almanac and Prayer Book.
"And friends, this is a true story, because I was that
soldier."
Recorded by T. Texas Tyler
note: A WWII update of a story that's at least a
century older. RG
GG
OCT98
(may I be forgiven for my sacrilege)
***************
God bless 'em, keep 'em, protect 'em and bring 'em home safe and whole! They're there for all of us!
Jesus is the Reason for the Season!
The Hag
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CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
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Dec 16, 2006 4:18 pm
Mood: jubilant,
404 Views
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My mother was an amazing, apple-dumpling of a woman - born December 16, 1908 - to an English-Irish father and an Acadian French mother. She spent her early childhood in Caruthersville, Missouri, and later, in Natchez, Mississippi. May I testify (in case you've not surmised) that the Irish and the Acadian French tempers combined to form one very feisty, fun-loving personality that could and did explode like nitroglycerine in an earthquake? Life with Mama was never dull. She was the consummate mother and grandmother, always ready with a warm hug or a quick swat, whichever she deemed fit the situation. She kept the house alive with her beautiful old Scots-Irish ballads and the folk music of Appalachia and sang us to sleep with the tenderest of lullabies. Other forms of entertainment were readily available, but we children would rather hear one of "Mama Rene's" stories (usually consisting of a half-dozen, at least) than anything else in the world. She was a living encyclopedia of the tales from Hans Christian Andersen and the Brothers Grimm - and there are among her tales some stories I've never seen in print anywhere. These surely are variations of classics passed down through the oral history of her people.
Considered a housewife by the standards of the day, she worked endlessly as a domestic in other people's homes, as she said, "Just doing what comes to hand." A 'from scratch' cook of admirable skill, she had infinite patience for teaching any willing soul her secrets and, from her, a cadre of young Army wives learned to feed their growing families fabulous home-cooked meals on an enlisted man's pay. Beyond this, she always had time to supervise and assist us with our homework, Sunday School lessons and various art projects. When I was in high school, she'd stay up past midnight after working 14 hours that day and looking to the same in the morning, to help me study for exams.
Thanksgiving and Christmas were her time of year. We gathered at different houses on a rotating basis among my grandfather's, aunts' and uncles'. All those women in the kitchen together, each tending to her specialty - beginning my tenure as prep-cook as soon as I was old enough to wield a vegetable brush successfully and over the years growing into their ranks in my own right - oh! the incredible smells of spices, seasonings, rich cocoas, fruit essences, aaaaah! Along with the work were the shared traditions of our family, of how they had lived, struggled and grown up during the depression, helping me and my near-age cousins better understand how much we had to be thankful for (this being much clearer to us now than it ever was then!).
She was a real Proverbs 31 Lady - loving, giving, serving, helping and caring as long as she lived. Her children and grandchildren will honor and cherish her memory as long as any among us is alive - her first grandchild even chose her birthday as his wedding day!
.....oOo..... .....oOo..... .....oOo.....
CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
Jingle bells, cookie smells,
.....Goodies on the tree,
The sights and sounds of Christmas
.....Are everywhere to see.
So be not sad or wish for one
.....Who is no longer here,
When we but pause and think awhile,
.....We'll find them very near.
For none is ever so far away
.....Our thoughts can't set them free,
To speed their way across miles or time,
.....To join us here in memory.
I don't believe that anyone
.....Is ever truly gone,
For all it takes is just one thought,
.....To bring their memory home.
So, friend, if you've ever wondered
.....What if she or he were here,
We only need to think of them
.....And suddenly they are near.
So, for Christmas then or Christmas now,
.....Even Christmas not yet here,
Our thoughts and memories have the pow'r
.....To bring our loved ones near.
Just close your eyes and think of them
.....And in your mind you'll see
All the ones you've ever loved
.....Around your Christmas tree.
Ruth Ann Mahaffey (c) 2002
.....oOo..... .....oOo..... .....oOo....
Just one week from today, friends, the fun begins in ernest!
Enjoy and cherish it!
Joy in Jesus!
The Hag
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I Can 'Splain...
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Dec 13, 2006 2:15 am
Mood: amused,
374 Views
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There are folks who will need decompression chambers to learn that some of you have accuseded moi (!) of being energetic?? Friends, it just t'ain't so.
I do take my Centrum Silver multivitamins before going to bed, and have done so for years, so that I'm more alert on waking. This 'trick' was taught to me by our supervisor when my husband and I were selling Shaklee Products, about 30 years ago. It was an immense help during the college years, when sleep was always in short supply. Do not try this if you have trouble sleeping. In two hours, you'll be up again scrubbing the bathroom floor with the only toothbrush you own. (This report from those for whom the recommendation has not worked.) Thus far, PTL, sleep still comes to me when beckoned and stays until the alarm goes off.
The real secret, however, is to Sawyer-ize shamelessly and delegate, Delegate, DELEGATE! For every fun job you take on, farm out two mundane ones. This works for me because there are three highly intelligent, upwardly mobile young folks living here, each of whom has a cadre of about a dozen friends who are in and out on a regular basis. Since we're all night people and work second or third shift across the board, there are a reasonable number of daytime hours when there's considerable socializing going on. ...
I'm in the kitchen and a head pops through the door - "How're you, Elsie? I just wanted to say, 'hi!'"
"Hell-o, YOU! Do me a favor and stir this pot for about ten minutes?" (or unload the dryer, right quick? You get the picture.)
"Well, I really need to run..."
"Sure you do, I just need ten minutes. There you go...that's fine...I'll be right back..."
The gift wrapping is a Dowhile - something I do while I'm watching TV. Small packages are more challenging to wrap than large ones, and odd-shaped are easiest. Their very uniqueness sparks ideas (though I have been known to resort to the gift bag!).
Our young friend, Reid (10), will be with us next week, until the 23rd, when he'll go to his Dad's through New Year's. He's an extra pair of hands I can count on to handle a baker's dozen of chores, to enjoy the process and then ask for more. We'll do a ton of baking. He and Buddy are great playmates, too, so Buddy can get some good 'fetching' exercise in the back yard and I'll skip the evening walk while I wind up the Christmas details.
Mainly, just have fun with it and don't sweat the small stuff! If it doesn't get done - it'll work out anyway!
...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo...
Little-Known Facts About Reindeer
According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. Female reindeer retain their antlers till after they give birth in the spring. Therefore, according to EVERY historical rendition depicting Santa's reindeer, EVERY single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen, had to be a girl. We should've known... ONLY women would be able to drag a fat-\bass\b man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost!
...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo...
Happy to see you! Do you want your egg nog 'spiked' or with whipped cream on top? Oh, both! OK!
Hugs! for the Holidays!
The Hag
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Livin' Thru The Givin'
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Dec 11, 2006 7:18 am
Mood: energetic,
398 Views
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Everyone understands that we've brought all this paper, ribbon, decorations and pretty boxes into the house just for Lola's enjoyment, right? Concern that she may ingest something toxic has her banned from my bedroom - she's confused but not giving me the 'cold shoulder' or 'silent treatment' yet.
We are awash and knee-deep in said accouterments of the Season, mainly because I adore gift-wrapping, and have offered my services to those friends who 'have no time' and/or who are desirous of keeping prized toys, etc., secret from prying eyes and poking fingers! Ergo, boxes labeled with surnames, taped lists of who gets what attached, and inside the gifts and wrappings for same. I'm working at getting through a box per day. That sounds awful. At this writing, there are nine boxes, with (?) six to ten gifts in each.
Our decorations are 'down' but not 'up' yet, and we have no tree. Working on it! We anticipate going tree hunting (shopping) Wednesday night and having a trimming/house decorating party this weekend. I've dug out my Mom's recipe for Old Fashioned Popcorn Balls just for the occasion. Also took on an extra ration of cocoa mix and milk. Yet another fun time to anticipate. ... With only twelve days remaining before Christmas Eve, there's much to be done. Well, not to worry. "Many hands make light work," my dear friend Isobel was fond of saying. And this is all such fun!
...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo...
I've always loved The Twelve Days of Christmas, but only a few years ago came to understand the beauty and significance of the words. If this is not new to you, I hope it will be a pleasant reminder of what we can so easily take for granted:
The Twelve Days of Christmas
When Oliver Cromwell came to power in England, Catholics were not permitted to practice their faith openly. Tradition holds that Catholic parents developed "The Twelve Days of Christmas" to teach children their beliefs.
The partridge in a pear tree represents Jesus (the partridge will sacrifice its life to save its young).
Two turtle doves: The Old and New Testaments
Three French hens: Faith, hope, and charity, or the three gifts of the Wise Men.
Four calling birds: The four Evangelists--Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
Five golden rings: The first five books of the Old Testament.
Six geese a-laying: The six days of creation described in Genesis.
Seven swans a-swimming: The seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, counsel, strength, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord).
Eight maids a-milking: The eight Beatitudes.
Nine ladies dancing: The nine choirs of angels (Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels, and regular angels); or the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit (love, joy, peace, kindness, goodness, patience, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control).
Ten lords a-leaping: The Ten Commandments.
Eleven pipers piping: The eleven faithful Apostles.
Twelve drummers drumming: The twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed.
...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo...
I hope you're enjoying your preparations, too. I'm glad you stopped by. Next time, there'll be egg nog!
The Hag
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A Sweet Reminder...
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Dec 8, 2006 1:39 am
Mood: happy,
388 Views
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This has been a busy week, getting back into the daily balance of work, family, the holiday planning, etc., but we had a good amount of cooked food still on hand (packed in individual-sized servings and frozen like home-cooked TV dinners) and Joe and Eric each cooked dinner a couple of nights, so a lot of the household routine was 'streamlined.' The cooler weather and readjustment to the dictation schedules have sent me to bed at what most folks would consider a reasonable time (10:30 to 11p), but for me, is tres early! I've been taking a cup of Anna's 'swear-by' soporific green tea with me and reading a bit of The Beekeeper's Apprentice by Laurie R. King just before drifting off. This is one of the genre of new authors writing tales of Sherlock Holmes (with whom I fell hopelessly in love when I was eight years old - same year I fell equally in love with Richard Boone (Paladin\Have Gun Will Travel)). Ms. King's interpretation of Holmes misses my own envisionings at several points, but she takes up the saga after SH has retired to the Sussex Downs to tend his bees at last. The character through whom she does her narration is a young woman, who steps into Dr. Watson's shoes as Aide de Camp. Haven't progressed far enough with the work to give an opinion yet - other than it's a most pleasant way to fall asleep.
This came to me in an email today. I had it in my collection once before and lost it. My hope is that it will bring you the same élan it gives to me!
...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo... ...oOo...
Legend of the Candy Cane
According to legend there was a candy maker who wanted to invent a candy that was a witness to Christ.
First of all, he used a hard candy because Christ is the rock of ages. This hard candy was shaped so that it would resemble a ìJî for Jesus or, turned upside down, a shepherdís staff. He made it white to represent the purity of Christ.
Finally a red stripe was added to represent the blood Christ shed for the sins of the world, and three thinner red stripes for the stripes He received on our behalf when the Roman soldiers whipped Him. Sometimes a green stripe is added as a reminder that Jesus is a gift from God.
The flavor of the cane is peppermint, which is similar to hyssop. Hyssop is in the mint family and was used in the Old Testament for purification and sacrifice. Jesus is the pure Lamb of God, come to be a sacrifice for the sins of the world.
So, every time you see a candy cane, remember the message of the candy maker: Jesus is the Christ!
Candy Cane Poem
Jesus Gentle Shepherd, this cane of red and white proclaims the sweet love story, born on Christmas night
This cane, you see, when turned around begins your name of Love and now becomes a symbol of peace proclaimed above
The lively peppermint flavor is the regal gift of spice
The white is your purity and the red your sacrifice
And so this cane reminds us of just how much you care and like your Christmas Gift to us it's meant for all to share.
Thanks for your visit! You add such goodness to my life!
Joy in Jesus!
The Hag
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It Was A FUN Vacation!
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Dec 6, 2006 4:42 am
Mood: drained,
434 Views
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... and my several romps through Blogland were pure delight - however, the party's very much over - work beckons! From now through the first week in january, it will be a roller-coaster ride - as the commercial for Koehl's says, "I'm sure (I'll) sleep sometime next year!"
I'll drop in as often and for as long as possible.
Enjoy the holidays. Be gentle with yourself - and don't buy into the hype! It's a celebration of the Spirit, not the pocketbook!
Jesus is the only reason for the season!
The Hag
BLOGLAND - SIX MONTHS OUT
Blogland is a special place, with friends and fun galore,
No matter how long I play here, I always want a half-hour more!"
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Field Flowers
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Dec 3, 2006 12:41 pm
Mood: peaceful,
449 Views
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During my last years in high-school, I worked as au pair (though that's not what we called it here in the USA, at the time) for the Chief Petty Officer on base. The youngest son in the household was three when I began caring for the family.
On my kitchen window sill, above the sink, there was an old-fashioned green glass canning jar that never lacked a bouquet. In spring, it was whatever variety of 'wildflower' or 'grass flower' that was the first to bloom. There were lots of dandelions. Through the summer, we saw everything from bitter-weeds to roses. Autumn brought the varicolored leaves and twigs replete with pine cones, acorns and sweet-gum balls. Winter sported evergreen and holly sprigs, festooned with ribbons and little paper ornaments Charlie and John had fashioned with crayons and construction paper.
The first time (PaPa) Sam saw this lovingly-gathered collection of weeds, he was hovering over the trash can about to throw it out - when I yelled, "Stop! Don't throw my bouquet away! Charlie just brought that in to me half an hour ago." The tone of my voice startled him. He straightened his posture, turned and
looked at me with his head cocked in puzzlement and asked, "You're going to keep this up there?"
"You bet I am, Sir. No other bouquet I may receive will ever be given as freely and as sincerely as that one."
He looked again at the object he was holding, then out the kitchen window at his two younger sons, playing with the dog and their wagon. Shaking his head thoughtfully, Sam returned my treasure to its place. For three and a half years that jar was never empty.
"Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." - Luke 12:27
Welcome All! So glad you're here!
The Hag
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