You are currently browsing the daily archive for Thursday, March 29, 2012.

The day was productive. Not as productive as I had originally hoped, but things were accomplished.

I managed to complete:

  • grocery shopping
  • miscellaneous shopping
  • scattered grass seed
  • watered seeded areas and flowers
  • was surprised by a thoughtful gift and card
  • wrote some blogs
  • made whole wheat spaghetti, fettuccine, and beef chunks for supper
  • nursed a sinus infection all day

The big item of the day was making anchors for four outdoor solar lights. I placed these lights along the flagstone walk; however, they are a pain to pull up from the ground when I mow. So, I put on my creative cap, and decided I would experiment. I bought four $2 flower pots, made my own Plaster of Paris, made temporary string grids, and inserted the solar lights. I plan on pouring on a layer of glue and spreading store-bought rounded glass stones, or stones on top. We’ll see how this works!

Tomorrow, Friday, Quintin has percussion rehearsal from 9:00am-9:00pm. I will cut tons of lilacs and prepare in bouquets for some to swing by to pick up, and I will deliver several to some friends. As the afternoon begins, I will have coffee with a friend who lost her fury pal of ten years earlier this week, try to write, and prepare for the busy weekend. I will be working the volunteer table for MEPA on Saturday for approximately 12 hours, and again on Sunday for about 10 hours.

And, then on Monday, it is a non-stop push until mid-June with no breaks!

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We’ve all had days when even those folks with a positive spirit just feel overloaded. Normally, anything tossed directly into the path can easily be gotten around. However, there are those days when you look ahead to see piles of debris every few feet…

And then comes that God wink… something, or someone, reminding you that all is well with the world, and that most things are not permanent. What is most special is when those reminders/winks come from someone whose recent path was somewhat destroyed by tragedy. Yet, they rose up with miraculous courage, strength, and spirit to reexamine, readjust, rebuild, and reenter their path.

When I returned home from grocery shopping, feeling like a whupped pup, I found this beautiful planter on my front porch, accompanied by a card that readjusted my own vision of my path.  For a moment, I felt humbled.  Yet, I quickly realized there was no reason to slip into a guilty state – after all, I AM HUMAN!

And I love being human because I can grow!

With renewed spirit, and a readjusted vision for the day, I set out with a newly purchased bag of grass seed, and spread hand fulls in the bare areas of my front lawn.   The tempo of my day took an abrupt turn for refocusing on the positives in life, and returning to my normal pace of growing as a human.

As I watered the newly distributed grass seed, hostas, and other beauties of nature sprouting in this very early Spring, a familiar hymn haunted my mind…

Soft as the voice of an angel, breathing a lesson unheard,
Hope with a gentle persuasion whispers her comforting word:
Wait till the darkness is over, wait till the tempest is done,
Hope for the sunshine tomorrow, after the shower is gone

Whispering hope, oh, how welcome thy voice, making my heart in its sorrow rejoice.

“You know he always salutes just to me.”

That was Mrs. Shirley’s story, and she was sticking to it.

It was a regular Friday scene at Panther Stadium during four years of football.  The band would finish half-time, pass before the cheering crowds, and a darling grandmother in the stands would wait for her salute from the drum-major.  After receiving her salute, Mrs. Shirley would turn to those seated near her to remind them that the drum-major saluted her – and only her!

In my younger years, Mrs. Shirley was the lovely woman who greeted Mother while shopping in downtown Elwood, always patting the back of my head, or scratching the top with her fingernails.  In elementary school, and junior high, Mrs. Shirley became more commonly known as Kim & Brent Boston’s grandmother who often visited the Elwood roller skating rink across from Callaway Park on 19th Street.  Mrs. Shirley’s daughter and son-in-law, Carole & Bruce Boston, owned the fantastic family gathering place which was a terrific source of entertainment in the 1970’s.  I always felt special because Mrs. Shirley greeted me by name; however, I honestly believe she knew almost every kid’s name. Still, to a second grader, that was special.

In high school, my very special relationship with Mrs. Shirley began.  At the 50-yard line following the marching band’s half-time show, I saluted as the band passed the stands in final review.  That was my moment as drum-major, and it was Mrs. Shirley’s moment, as well.  It began as a joke: “I know you are just saluting me after half-time.”

Before too long, I was saluting Mrs. Shirley, directly.  When the drum-majors would offer a pre-show salute, or salute at the end of a number (which was standard procedure in that era), my salute was directed at Mrs. Shirley.  And, of course, the final salute following the half-time show was shared with Mrs. Shirley.

Yesterday evening, March 28th, Mrs. Shirley quietly left the stadium at 5:20pm.  I offer this blog post as a final salute, a tender, loving farewell to a special lady.

Mrs. Shirley, I know the angels are celebrating your arrival, and showering you with salutes.

God bless you, Dear Lady…

Salute…

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