precept_upon_precept's Xanga

Back to the Grindstone

Fri, 20 Apr 2012 20:36:33 GMT

I thought that we might be able to sneak by spring break this year, but after a while the boys caught on and began to ask when they were going to have a break. It's not that I'm opposed to having spring break, it's just that our schedule has been so topsy-turvy this year, that I was intent on getting in some solid weeks of work when it finally started happening. We sat down with a calendar and decided that we would take a week off, but as it turned out we had a day off the week before and two days off the week after and we ended up with more of a break than any of us had intended.

The week before we were off for another photography class. We met at the Marine Corp Museum where there is plenty of light. Susan wanted them to work on black and white pictures and to think about contrast.

Justin lined everyone up for a group picture.

Another of Justin's pictures. This time aiming straight up.

Jeremy started out with some colored photos,

and then caught this shot when he switched to black and white.

At the top of the boys' "to-do list" was fishing. We actually managed to work three fishing trips in. The first one was the most successful if you only count fish caught.

The boys had gotten their heads together with some friends at church and planned a doomsday fishing trip. When the day finally arrived, we picked a spot we had never fished before and I was prepared to take it easy while they fished. Even though the four boys had five rods, two tackle boxes, three nets and multiple boxes of bait between them, they didn't even get a nibble. After two poles became hopelessly tangled, they began slopping while I sat in the shade and untangled lines.

My sister-in-law had planned a day for us get together and get pictures taken of all the Shaffer grandchildren. All the kids were glad to be together again both at the photo shoot and again at grandma and grandpa's for supper.

This is the best pose of the two boys together.

The next week, JJ joined us for a couple of days during his spring break and we went fishing again. On another day, we invited friends from church for a playday and six mothers and 23 children enjoyed the afternoon together.

We finished off JJ's spring break by going to a concert. The music was a Capella spirituals. One of the songs they sang was the Lord's prayer and part way through the song, JJ looked at me and said, "we have that at home." I was glad to know that he's listening and learning when we pray together.

Finally this week, we were scheduled for a full week of school, but we did take part of a day for another field trip. This was at the nature center for a class on snakes.

I decided that corn snakes are pretty snakes, and the boys were more than glad to have a five-foot snake draped around their necks.

When I look at my school notebook, I can see that even though we took more time than planned for a break, we're still going to get our allotted school work done. But I can also see some extra gaps where we had intended to work. Even though the break has been good for us, we do need to keep our noses to the grindstone for several weeks now.

A Rocker Full of Memories

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 20:46:40 GMT

On Saturday, I met a friend in Pennsylvania for lunch. It's been a long time since we've had a chance to sit down and visit even though our paths cross a couple of times a year. We had a nice visit and thoroughly bored Jeremy and Justin. After we finished eating, we took care of the item that was the catalyst in bringing us together for a lunch. Becky and her husband had recently visited my mother in New Mexico, and since they were traveling alone, they had room in their van to transport my great-grandmother's rocking chair.

My memories of this chair go back to when I was a teenager, but my mother's memories go back to that little house in rural Indiana that was known as "Grandma Weimer's house". She remembers her grandmother sitting in the chair in the living room and visiting with her guests. We think it may be called a sewing rocker, but mom doesn't remember Grandma Weimer sewing while she rocked.

One winter when I was a teenager, my dad and I re-caned the seat of the rocker and re-wove the back. Neither of us had ever caned anything before, but we were willing to give it a try after getting a bushel of caning strips in the mail along with some mimeographed instruction sheets. We counted holes, and counted holes, and counted holes again before we figured out where to begin and how to start the caning. I remember some sense of frustration when our work didn't look like the examples. The rounded space provided quite a challenge for us and I remember having to unravel some of the job before we were partially satisfied. We never did get the seat to look like we wanted it to and after three decades of use, Dad took out our job and replaced it with pre-woven cane. The back still remains as we wove it at least 30 years ago.

That same winter, Dad and I tackled the caning in another chair and by the time we got to that chair we did a much better job. Of course it helped that the opening was closer to square and we didn't have to count so many holes. It's a lot easier to count from corner to corner than it is to count all the way around an ox-bow.

I am very thankful to have this little rocker in my home now, but having it brings up memories that bring tears to my eyes. Dad was so patient with me as we worked together. He probably could have caned the chairs just as quickly without my help, but I wanted to help and he let me. As we tugged and pulled and pegged and counted, we were doing more than fixing an old chair, we were building memories and strengthening our father-daughter bond.

Preparing for Doomsday

Mon, 02 Apr 2012 11:53:54 GMT

Yesterday between Sunday School and worship, Jeremy and Justin put their heads together with one of their friends and worked up a plan for the week. I haven't been let in on the plans yet, but as worship was starting, Justin handed me his First Will and Testament. (I've corrected some spelling.)

I, Justin Shaffer, give my fishing stuff to Caleb, my BB guns to Noah, my stuffed animals to to Elizabeth and Abigail, my science stuff goes to Peter. If I live this doomsday fishing plan, I want all my stuff back. O, yes, also give Noah my swords. Give Caleb my CO2 pistol. Give Peter my penny bank money. Remember if I live, I want my stuff back. Mom, I love you.

At the bottom on the page, he added, "I'm done for."

I haven't heard anything about Doomsday this morning, and I'm not counting on it happening today but I am glad to know though, that whatever happens, he loves me.

Winter Winding to the End

Sun, 18 Mar 2012 20:47:53 GMT

As winter comes to a close, we've acquired a new pet. After two weeks, she's still called "the cat" or "kitty". We've tried out several names and haven't been able to settle on any of them.

Tabasco, Mittens, Hornet, Sage, Kitty Khan, Kitty Kinte, Pussy Jackson, Myrtle, and Ethel have all been considered, but none of them have had enough votes to become official. Our latest idea is that she should have a different name every day.

Whatever her name will eventually be, the boys have been enjoying her.

Like many others, we have had a very mild winter, and the boys celebrated the last week of winter by getting their swimsuits on and playing in the sprinkler - twice in one week. We haven't mowed the yard yet, but it's warm enough for summer clothing and activities.

J joined us for the weekend and we celebrated his sixth birthday. He was excited to celebrate and wore his new Lightning McQueen shirt when he went home this afternoon. We first met J soon after his second birthday so he's been a part of our lives for four years now.

Today I Cried

Fri, 24 Feb 2012 19:09:48 GMT

Today I cried

-for my mother and the empty bed she sleeps in every night.

-for my brother and his loss of a fellow worker in the gospel.

-for my sister and for her loss of a counselor and encourager.

-for my nephews who see an empty chair each time they visit grandma.

-for my sons who will never get to know their grandpa better.

-for myself and the empty spot in my heart.

-for the sermons unpreached and the babies unheld.

-for the prayers unprayed and for the songs unsung.

And while I cried, I sang hymns that I learned as a child.

-hymns of hope.

-hymns of grace.

-hymns of forgiveness.

-hymns of the gospel and our heavenly Father's love.

As I sang, my thoughts turned to the struggles each of us face and my thoughts turned to prayers.

-prayers for my mother and the battles she now faces alone.

-prayers for my brother and the wisdom he needs for the days ahead.

-prayers for my sister and for strength as she helps my mother daily.

-prayers for my nephews and the needs each of them have.

-prayers for my sons and the future they face.

And prayers lead to hope.

The Lord is good and has never forsaken us.

He has brought us to the place and has promised to finish the work he has begun in us.

All our needs have been supplied and his grace is sufficient for all we face.

Nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Even though I know the tears will come again, I know that the Lord will be with all of us as we continue to grieve and that he will continue to be our strength and hope.

Sweeter Than Chocolate

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 01:17:01 GMT

The signs of love are in the air. People are wearing red shirts and buying boxes of chocolate. Reservations for romantic dinners are hard to come by and the cards are flying off the shelves everywhere cards are sold. The price of flowers seems higher than at other times of the year and x's and o's are peeping out of store windows. I love chocolate and red shirts and romantic dinners and flowers and cards, but there is something else that shouts love in the loudest and most emphatic way.

I'm talking about long-lasting marriages that are founded on the principles of God's word and based in love. I have been so blessed to have special people in my life who believed that marriage is for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health as long as both shall live. I'm talking about my grandparents and Dean's grandparents. Eight special people who have played a major part in our lives and who deserve to be honored on this day of love.

My Grandpa Skiles had written on the back of this picture, "rejoice with the wife of thine youth." He and Grandma celebrated 66 years of marriage before they were separated by death. I had the privilege of caring for grandpa for a few weeks before he died and during that time he told me how he had spent $300 and took a trip from Indiana to California where he met grandma. He told me that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He won her heart and when he returned to Indiana, she grew heartsick before he returned to take her home as his bride in 1926.

My Grandpa and Grandma Kintner were married in 1929. Grandpa loved to say that he had $10 when they got married - just enough to buy a marriage license. They worked hard together on their farm and shared in the joy of raising their children and in the sorrow of losing both of their sons. The last time I was with my grandparents before death separated them I was tickled to see grandpa shuffle over to where grandma was sitting so he could give her a pat on the back. I was afraid that he would loose his balance on his way, but that little sign of endearment is a special memory. Their love lasted through the good and the bad for 63 years.

Dean's Grandpa and Grandma Shaffer also saw their share of the good and the bad throughout the 56 years that the Lord blessed them with. They endured long separations during WWII when grandpa was off at camp and grandma was home with their first baby. Grandpa worked hard to provide for his family and had interesting stories to tell about his work in a little family run coal mine. I always knew Grandpa and Grandma as a couple who enjoyed life and could find humor in many situations. As Grandma's health failed, Grandpa lovingly cared for her without complaint.

Dean's Grandpa and Grandma Johns married young and loved each other for 62 years. Grandpa was a long-distance trucker and it seemed that his absence made the heart grow fonder. Family times have always been important in the Johns' family and Grandpa and Grandma's house has always been open for family occasions - both planned and unplanned. We could always count on a warm welcome and Grandpa always made sure that the thermostat was part of the welcoming committee. We never said good-bye without an invitation to return as often and soon as possible. Grandpa, as the only surviving grandparent out of eight, is still extending the invitation to visit.

Dean and I will soon celebrate 18 years together and it doesn't seem long compared to the 247 years of marriage that our grandparents enjoyed. We were older than any of our grandparents when we got married, but that doesn't stop us from aiming for as many years as possible. With their record, 50 almost sounds like a low goal. By God's grace and mercy, we'll enjoy at least that many. The love that we have seen demonstrated is a special gift that we'll enjoy for many years and it lasted much longer than that chocolate that we're going to share.

Part-time Home, Full-time Love

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 00:51:20 GMT

In the 18 months since J left our home, we have had regular contact with him and his family. We usually pick him up every other Friday after he gets home from school and he spends the weekend with us. He's always ready and eager to hop in the van and get the weekend started. In addition, we've had two of his brothers spend a weekend twice and have taken the brothers and two sisters to Vacation Bible School. He's made several trips to Pennsylvania with us and traveled to New Mexico when we went in December. J continues to call us mama and papa and Jeremy and Justin are brothers. On Saturday he prayed and asked the Lord to bless mama and papa, "my best mom and my best dad."

We went through a time of deep grieving when J returned to his family, and for the most part, I think we've worked through that process. One the other hand, J continues to deal with the separation on a daily basis. Every time he visits, he asks if he can stay and also asks why we have to take him back. When he's here he goes through the house and finds things that were his when he lived here and wants to talk about "when I was a baby". When he gets a gift, he leaves it here so that he'll have it when he returns and he's even brought things from home that he wants us to keep. It's never easy to take him back, but we make sure that he knows that even though this is a part time home for him, he has full-time love from us.

The Gifts that Last a Lifetime

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 21:52:03 GMT

Today the phone has rung several times with birthday wishes from family and friends and I've gotten cards in the mail. Dean and the boys took me out for a birthday meal and had flowers delivered. I've had dozens of greetings from Facebook friends and I know a yummy dessert is coming later on, but I still feel like something is missing. I don't have to do much deep soul searching to figure this feeling out. I know. I'm missing Dad. In spite of my feeling of loss, I know that he gave me so much. I've decided that if I count my blessings that sense of loss might be soothed.

Dad gave me a sense of security. I never doubted that my parents had a deep love for each other that translated into a deep commitment to their marriage. It was normal to see them embrace or hold hands and it was their joy to celebrate 52 years of marriage.

He taught me to love nature. One time during the winter when I was a teenager, a bunch of us were sledding down the hill near our house when we decided that the tree we were passing was causing a grave danger to us. Some of the guys got the pickup and a chain and we pulled that tree out by the roots. Just as we were ready to cheer, Dad came walking by. He very calmly asked what we were doing and let us know that we had just destroyed a living thing. When we stopped to think about it, we realized that he was right. It took us about 5 minutes to kill a tree that had been growing for at least a hundred years.

Dad taught me that it's okay to get your hands dirty. I'm sure there were some jobs that he would have preferred to avoid, but I don't know what they were. He accepted each dirty job as his own and made sure it was done correctly. I remember helping him skin logs one summer and how excited I was to get my hands just as dirty as his. Those logs were used to build fences that are still standing.

Dad valued family time. He didn't spend money on toys, but he made sure that we spent time together as a family. He laughed at my brother's funny faces and burped my sister. He sang songs to us and wrestled with us. He took us on picnics and taught us how to play baseball. As we grew older, he made sure that he always had time to talk with us and really listened when we did. His last days on earth were spent surrounded by family and we were glad to be with him in death as he had been with us in life.

Dad taught me to take care of everything we owned. It it broke, it could probably be repaired and if it couldn't be repaired, the parts might be valuable for something else. Nothing should be thrown away until all the use had been squeezed out of it.

One hard lesson I learned from Dad was about telling the truth. When I was about five, he offered me a reward if I would get my room cleaned up and I was very eager for that prize. I went into my room and cleaned it in the most efficient way possible. I pushed everything under the bed. I made the bed nicely to cover the mess, and went to claim that sweet treat. I savored that treat and before it was gone, I was caught in my lie. I don't remember if I was punished, but I did learn that it's better to be honest than to be caught in a lie.

Dad also taught me to forgive. Even when he had been wrongly accused, misused or hurt, he never spoke of that person with bitterness. I don't know how many times I heard him say, "forgive and forget" or "let's keep the peace", but he practiced what he preached and really forgave and worked to bring peace into every situation.

Probably the most important thing Dad shared was his love for the Lord and the scriptures. There was no doubt that he loved the Lord and he was ready to talk about him whether he was preaching to crowds or visiting one-on-one. Dad could always be found early in the morning at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee reading his Bible. The last time he spoke in a church service, he told how he was homesick for heaven. He lived his life for the Lord and was motivated by his deep love for him.

My life has been deeply enriched because of the father I had and I'm very thankful for the gifts that God gave me through him. Even though I won't hear his voice on the phone today, I have much to be thankful for. The gifts he gave me are ones that will last a lifetime and for that I am very thankful.

A Star at the Top

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 00:48:17 GMT

I love home days - the days when we have no place to go and but still lots to do around the house. Today was a home day and I was looking forward to doing a few things around the house. I had laundry to do and stuff, lots of stuff, that needed to be assigned a place to call home. The floors needed to be cleaned, one boy needed a haircut, there's mending to be done and of course, who could forget about school, cooking and dishes? The boys got up earlier then usual and were ready for school when I called them. They were working hard when life threw me a curve ball.

It was a very nice curve ball, but it did have a way of changing my plans. Justin sat down on my lap early in the day and asked if I would please consider taking him fishing today. Right away, my list scrolled through my mind and fishing wasn't on it. I didn't want to discourage him, but I did tell him that I had been looking forward to spending the day at home and wanted to get lots done. The next thing I knew, Justin wasn't taking the breaks I was giving the boys and he was plowing through his schoolwork. When I stopped to fix lunch, Justin disappeared and when he came back, he informed me that he had cleaned the bedroom. (It desperately needed some help.) Then he swept the laundry room and kitchen.

My list was still scrolling through my mind as I started another load of laundry and I was ticking off items on my list and adding Justin's work to my list and ticking it off as well. Then Justin confessed that he wasn't just being helpful. He was working in hopes that my list would be taken care of and we could go fishing. Oh! I hadn't thought about fishing since he had asked me and I was intent on that list. I began to rearrange my list in my mind. Perhaps fishing could move up to a higher spot and mending could be moved down - again. Perhaps if I put off finding homes for the stuff, fishing could move a little higher.

When it became obvious that both boys would their finish school work at a decent time, fishing moved up to the number 2 spot. That lit a fire under Justin and when his work was completed, he did some more chores. Jeremy also began to work a little more quickly and both boys were in the van before I was ready to leave the house.

When we got to the lake, we discovered that we had the place to ourselves except for a few boats that were way out.

They fished side by side for a while but soon parted ways.

Jeremy fished from the dock and soon discovered that he had a fishing partner.

The partner didn't have a pole, but he looked like he knew what he was doing.

Justin walked around the fishing pond and I spied him watching his line on the other side. The pond was very still and I couldn't resist snapping a few pictures of the mirrored effect.

As the sun crept lower in the sky, the boys still hadn't caught a fish, but we all agreed that the day had turned out to be lovely. I still have mending, and haircuts and mopping and that stuff without a home, but that scrolling list has a big star at the top. We had a lovely time at the lake and I really didn't miss doing my chores after all.

The Monkey's Tale

Fri, 13 Jan 2012 21:17:15 GMT

Memories, memories, memories. Some come with a smile and others with a tear. Many are connected to feelings like accomplishment, anger, confusion, embarrassment, joy or sorrow. Some are just snippets and others are full-fledged stories. It has been a blessing to have others share their memories of dad and we especially appreciated his brother and sister sharing some of their early memories of dad.

I'm here to confess that one of my early memories of dad intersects with my thumbsucking problem. There's just something about having a thumb always handy. It doesn't get lost like a pacifier and it fits perfectly into the mouth no matter what the age. I found it helpful to be able to hold something while I was sucking my thumb and for a while that something was a sock monkey. I would drag him around by the tail and when I sucked my thumb, I would hold his tail in the same hand.

Dad and mom gently tried to encourage me to break my habit, but those cherished habits are hard to break. One afternoon when I was still young enough to take a daily nap but old enough to remember, Dad put me down for my nap. Of course I wanted my monkey, but dad thought I was old enough to nap without him. He took my monkey and tied him around the bare lightbulb that was in the ceiling of my room. The monkey hung from the lightbulb with all four legs hugging the bulb with his non-prehensile tail hanging down. Dad turned off the light and shut the door so I could have a quiet rest. I promptly fell asleep and had myself a good nap.

We had guests at the time and for some reason, while I was asleep, one of them (I think it was another child) flipped the light switch on. I was happily sleeping when my sock monkey began to smolder and I slept through the ensuing excitement. When the smell finally reached my parents' noses, it was too late to save the monkey. The non-prehensile tail hadn't been clinging to the lightbulb and it escaped the slow burn.

When I woke up, there was a slight odor in the room that I couldn't identify. Dad came into my room with his hand behind his back. He told me that he was very sorry that he had tied my monkey around the light and then told me what had happened. His hand came out from behind his back and he showed me the tail which was scorched at its base. I know that Dad felt badly about my charred monkey, but he thought maybe I would still like the tail. I tried it once, but it just wasn't the same.

For years when I would see a sock monkey, I would remembered the monkey that had met its early demise. I don't remember holding any grudges through the years because I knew Dad had really been sorry. Once in a while I would be tempted to buy a new monkey, but I never did.

About a week before we traveled to New Mexico, I shared this story with a couple of friends. We laughed and then our conversation took another turn, but Andrea didn't forget the story. The day that dad died, she spotted a sock monkey in a store and purchased it for me. On Sunday, she handed me a gift and when I opened it, I found my new monkey! I tucked him into my bag where he sat during the service and when I left the service in tears, he was in my hand - a reminder of dad and a token of a friend's love.