You...My Brown Eyed Girl

I was with two of my daughters as we listened to a broadcast of Dr. Dobson when he gave his "farewell address" to the Focus on the Family staff. He spoke with such tenderness of his life with Shirley. After 50 years of marriage, he could tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. For example, he knew whether or not she liked a gift just by the look in her eyes. It was a sweet admission of a close relationship.

It reminded me of last week, when Gary and I were driving home from a short vacation. He was humming the song, "You, my-ay, brown eyed girl...". He looked over at me and trying to look through my sunglasses, he said, "I forget... what color are your eyes?"

Dr. Dobson, he ain't, but I wouldn't trade him for the world:)

Kids, These Days!

My friend, Jill, was helping in the first grade room at Vacation Bible School. The pastor was telling the children about John the Baptist and how he came to show the way to Jesus. Trying to illustrate his point, the pastor showed them a compass and explained that the purpose of the compass was to always point us to north. In the same way, John the Baptist's purpose was to point the way to Jesus.

Jill felt a tug on her arm. She looked down into the questioning eyes of a little first grader who said,

"Does he mean a GPS?"

For PETA Sake!

We just had to stop for lunch at the Pumpernickel Inn. Gary's meeting was over and we were driving home past beautiful Lake Michigan. He had curried squash soup and I had citrus carrot...the server's favorites. We shared hot chicken salad with tomato and provolone, atop a lightly toasted french baguette. Mmmmmm!

We decided to drive along a scenic route where we had often biked in years past. As we crossed a street, a vivid memory came back to me:

We were biking with Brace and Brenda as we came up to this lake road intersection. We could tell that something was going on due to the number of cars that were lined up waiting to cross. Being on bikes, we of course cruised right on through. But curiosity got the best of us and we circled around to see what caused the backup.

There in the middle of the intersection stood a tall, slender, nicely dressed woman with her husband (I assume). It appeared she was just standing in the street. At first I thought she might be handicapped, but when we looked closer, we could tell that she was protecting something on the road. How nice, we thought...was it a kitty, or a baby bird?

NO! It was a Wooly Worm! A tiny little furry caterpillar was inching (or millemetering ) its way across the street. And this woman obviously felt it her duty to stop traffic in order for her little friend to cross safely to the other side.

Did she apologize to drivers as they slowly veered around the couple? Not at all. Instead her smug expression seemed to say, "Look at me and the extent I will go to, to protect another living being."

Hmmm. I wonder what she thinks about abortion.

Horse Sense

I hadn't been on a horse in years. But here I was, on a mountain trail in Colorado, following the lead of my cowboy brother-in-law, and feeling quite pleased with myself. My horse was very nice to me; she even made me believe I was doing the leading.

The sky was so big and so blue that it took your breath away. The mountain air was fresh and clean. The trail was winding and sometimes steep and rocky, which made me cling a little tighter and trust a little deeper. Every turn we took was sermon material, for sure.

Up, up, up we climbed until we finally reached our destination. The scene before me was spectacular. We were at the edge of a grassy meadow that stretched for miles and miles, with mountain ridges surrounding us. Earl and Gary took advantage of the wide open space to gallop their horses. I chose to sit and watch. It truly was an awesome, panoramic picture of God's majesty.

As Earl trotted back to the group, he rode a little behind me and said, "Just look at that view!" I turned my neck to look, and said, "I can't see it, my neck is too stiff to turn that far."

"Marla..." Earl said, not quite believing I could be that dim witted, "Just turn your horse around!"

Hmmm...it must have been the altitude.

Best Friends

David got married today. He married his best friend in a lovely, God-centered ceremony. As I often do at weddings, I felt a little sentimental with the passing of time.

I can't help but remember the day, not so many years ago when I was baby-sitting for him; he was 4 years old. David was so excited because I was also going to babysit for Jordan, and they were real pals. As he waited for Jordan to arrive, he skipped over to me and said in his sweet, stuttering voice,

"Hey, M-M-Marna, d-d-d-do you know who my b-b-best friend is?"

Teasing him, I gushed, "Me? I'm your best friend? Oh, David, that is so nice!"

Well, that wasn't exactly what he meant, but he knew in his 4 year old heart that he didn't want to hurt my feelings. Looking perplexed for a moment, he paused, then said,

"D-d-do you know who my second best friend is?"

Congratulations, David and Tara. It truly was a beautiful day!

Tennis Anyone?

I love tennis. I really do. If you think about it, the game is a lot like marriage.

For instance, we start the game with love.  We (Gary and I) then take our turn serving.  If I blow it the first time, Gary always lets me try again.  And sometimes, we give each other the advantage.  Occasionally, we point out each other's faults, but usually we see our own, and confess them.  And we are always forgiven. When our swing seems a bit flat, we just try to follow through until we find that sweet spot and enjoy a long rally.

Success depends on how well we stick to the game plan. If we just hold at the right time, we won't have to worry about the break points.

So when the overheads get too high, and our volleys too deep; when the fuzz wears thin and tennis elbow sets in; when the game just seems like one big racket, it is encouraging to know that even after 15, 30, or 40 years, Gary and I will still be each other's biggest fan.

After all, our match was made in heaven.

Kenny

I like to think I have inherited my dad's wit. He always loved a good joke, many of which he played on others. For example, he was supposed to bring a urine sample to our local doctor's office for his check up. It just so happened that his appointment was on St. Patrick's Day. So my dad takes water, adds green food coloring to it, and hands his "sample" to the nurse.

"Kenny Bauer, what is THAT?" the nurse exclaimed.

My dad replies, "It's a funny thing, but this happens to me every St. Patrick's Day."

A story he loved to tell took place in the 1960s, when he played a joke on Joe, the paper boy. Joe came collecting, as he always did on Saturday morning. Here is the dialogue that followed:

Joe: That will be a quarter please.

Dad: Gee, I don't have a quarter, all I have is a 50 cent piece.

Joe: That's okay, I can give you back a quarter.

Dad: Fine! (Joe gives him his change, and they make small talk for a few minutes, all the while Dad is jangling coins in his pocket)

Dad: (pulls his hand out his pocket) Oh, Joe, look, I do have a quarter after all. Here you go, now give me back my 50 cent piece.

Joe slowly unzips his money bag to retrieve the 50 cent piece, and with a confused look on his face, says: I'm not sure what just happened here, but something about it doesn't feel right.

Reba

Reba was a yellow lab. She was our third dog. I always felt that Reba didn't appreciate us. She seemed to have an air of defiance that often made me wonder about her.

One freezing cold winter night, I heard her. Reba was somewhere out in the woods and she wouldn't quit barking. Finally, I asked Gary to check it out. Soon, he was back in the house shouting for us to come. Apparently, Reba was caught in the icy river, her front paws up on a sheet of ice, while her back paws were trying to gain leverage on the river bottom. And her cries were becoming fainter and fainter.

She was out of our reach, so Gary dragged our canoe down the snowy hill and used it as a "pier". I held one end to steady it while Gary and Leslie got in to reach for Reba at the other end. Megan held a flashlight beam on her so we could see and Jami anxiously waited on the bank with blankets. Somehow, they were able to pull a shivering Reba into the canoe and back to safety.

We trudged into the house, exhausted and cold. The girls were all emotionally drained, and our traumatized pet was allowed to sleep in the utility room that night. The next day she was as good as new and I do believe she had more respect for us than she had before. I guess coming face to face with mortality can give you a fresh new outlook on life, even if you are a dog.

It weren't me.

Speaking of Gatlinburg (see last post), I am reminded of the time we were there vacationing with friends. We were planning to drive around Cade's Cove, a one way 8 mile drive around a beautiful meadow nestled in the Smokey mountains. This drive can take a long time during the autumn season because of all the tourists. In fact, you could probably get through it faster by jogging.

Because we knew we might be in the car for awhile, we decided to stop at a tourist area and use the restrooms. As is typical, there was a long line waiting to use the women's restrooms. Finally it was my turn. A woman came out of a stall and, seeing that I would be using the one she came out of, said in her Tennessee drawl,

"It ain't perty in there, but I just want you to know it weren't me!"

A Smokey Tale

Gatlinburg, Tennessee, at the base of the Smokey Mountains, has been one of our favorite autumn vacation spots for years. We have hiked many trails. One of the tougher ones is called the Chimney Tops. I consider it tougher simply because the incline gets pretty steep for a long time before it levels out. And when you think you are at the top, there are these huge, intimidating boulders (the Chimneys) that you have to climb up on in order reach the summit. But if you make it, the view is glorious, especially when the trees are at their peak of color. And the satisfaction you feel only enhances the experience.

My friend’s entire family has also spent time in Gatlinburg for their annual summer get-together. It just so happens that my daughter married into this wonderful family.

On one such trip, on one such climb up to the Chimneys, Mark was telling the others about the first time he ever climbed this trail,

“We had finally reached the big boulder and were wondering how to get  up onto the top so we could take in the view. There was nothing to grab onto and it was pretty scary. So we just sat there to see which one of us would muster the courage to be the first one up.  While we were sitting there, this hiker comes along, all by himself, with ear phones on, and without breaking stride, he just walks up the rock!! He didn’t even hesitate! We couldn’t believe it! We felt like wimps!”

My daughter said, “That’s amazing! That is the same thing that happened to my dad when he climbed the Chimneys the first time!!”

Mark suddenly got a bewildered look on his face. Then he started to laugh and he said, “Jami, it DID happen to your dad. Not to me! I think your dad told me the story so vividly that I thought it happened to me!”

What a hoot! They laughed all the way down the mountain.

Happy Birthday, Mom (and Abe)

Today is my mom's 84th birthday. Did you know she was named after Abraham Lincoln? A looooong time after!

One of the remarkable things about my mom is that when she was 40, and her youngest of 4 children was 11 years old (that was me), she opened up a dress shop in our small home town. She had no experience. An owner of an empty store approached my dad with the idea. Mom had no clue how to run a dress shop but she plunged in with Dad's blessing and her whole life changed. She even went to Chicago alone on her first buying trip. I think that was pretty courageous coming from a small town with a population of 800.

Back in 1968, she didn't have to compete with Walmart or Meijer. In fact, malls were just beginning to be built. She ran a successful business for 25 years, and our small town benefitted from it. I also benefitted from it. I always had my pick of the new arrivals. Her shop also paid college expenses for my brother and me.

Working at the shop taught me alot about fashion, color coordination, customer service, and retail in general. On slow days (and there were some very boring days) I read a lot of books. But, oh how that adrenaline kicked in on busy days. I think I was made for retail.

Every night at the supper table, Dad would ask Mom the same question. "How did you do?" And she would tell him how much the shop brought in that day. And usually a story followed about one of the customers that came in. She met a lot of people from neighboring towns who are still her friends today. Many years after she closed her doors for the final time, people would still tell her how much they missed her shop.

Thanks, Mom, for having the courage to step out of your comfort zone and start a new adventure. I love you! And have a happy birthday!

Bill's Story

Bill was a college student back in the 70s. Coming from a family with 9 siblings, he worked hard to pay his way through college. One late Sunday night, as he drove from his hometown back to school, he decided to stop at a convenient store for a snack. He had a few cents in his pocket and thought that would surely buy him something.


Smiling at the clerk, he asked how much 2 doughnuts cost.


“25 cents each, 53 cents with tax., “ the clerk replied.


Bill pulled out all the money he had, and counted. It totaled 52 cents. “Would you let me have them for 52 cents?”


“No” came the unkind reply.

"But I only have 52 cents." Bill said.

"Too bad. With tax they cost 53 cents."


Disappointed at the clerk’s lack of generosity, Bill said, “Well… then, I guess I’ll just have one.” With that, the clerk bagged one doughnut, stuck it on the counter, and said, “That will be 26 cents.” As Bill put the money on the counter, he suddenly realized he still had 26 cents left in his hand. HA! Feeling very smug, he said, “I think I will have another one, please.”


Glaring at Bill, the clerk had no choice but to bag another doughnut and accept the final 26 cents.


Somewhere that night, Bill was sure he heard angels singing. This day had to be one of the top ten best days of his life. And it made coming back for another week of school much easier.

It's the thought that counts???

When we were first married, Gary did not understand the concept that sometimes wives just need a listening ear, not necessarily a solution. And, as a newlywed, I was insecure about my body, wondering if Gary would be happier if I were thinner. So I often complained about the size of my thighs. Needless to say, Gary found a solution.


He was so excited one day as he presented me a package. When I opened it, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, to hit him or to… really hit him! Inside was a pair of thick, clear plastic shorts that Gary found in an advertisement in the Sunday paper inserts. You were supposed to put these shorts on and run in place and they were guaranteed to knock inches off your hips and thighs…..or your money back! But here is the kicker…you had to hook it up to the hose of a vacuum sweeper and turn it on while you jog in place. It was supposed to suck out the sweat!


As I look back, I can’t believe I actually tried it. It must have been the newlywed in me. Anyway, Gary got his money back, and I learned that our love was not based on how much I weighed.


Oh, and his black eye healed over time.

Cause my dad, my dad is the greatest dad around!

We spent several summer vacations in Michigan when our three daughters were small. That meant a lot of time on the road. I appreciated the many Christian resources available to us that I did not have as a child, such as stories on cassette and sing-a-longs, all sharing values that we felt were important lessons for our children. And just as important on long trips, they were entertaining, helping time to pass more quickly.


One occasion sticks out in my mind while traveling in northern Michigan. I put in a cassette that Gary had never heard before. As it started playing, the girls and I enthusiastically sang along with it. Gary looked at me with a grin on his face when he heard us singing, “My dad’s the greatest guy, and my dad’s the strongest guy, and my dad’s the funnest guy of any guy around” The lyrics included phrases like, “he plays ball with me, throws me in the air, flies a kite, gives me bubble gum, etc.” By the end of the song Gary was glowing with pride…that is, until we heard the sweet voice of 4 year old Jami coming from the rear of the van saying, “I wish that was my dad!”