What We Saw Today

Walking near Faneuil Hall in Boston
We saw this monument and were captured by it
Who was this bronze man and how did he earn the statue?
No signs, no labels, no answers.
We asked a passerby who also didn't know.

Our son, 4 years ago, apparently wondered the same thing.
His 6'2" frame was dwarfed by the bronze man
but he tried to match his stride.
Later, reading our son's blog to remember what he did in Boston
We came upon this photo.
Rachel's precious camera work.

Today we walked where he walked
Without knowing.
Without knowing
We breathed his air.
We noticed what he noticed.
We walked in his footsteps.
Without knowing
We shared this memory.

Time and distance are relative things.
It was our own monumental shared moment.
A gift for today.

Baby Kaia in the Arms of Jesus

bleeding heart flowers
I do not know the details, I only know from Marina that precious baby Kaia went to Heaven today. Please pray for the Zautner family who I know are heartbroken beyond words, intensely missing their beautiful little girl and grieving deeply. Please surround them with love and comfort by leaving a message of condolence on their blog link HERE.


Psalm 73:26
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Pray for Baby Kaia

Double-click here for the link to Baby Kaia's blog

Baby Kaia was born to our dear friends, Jared and Alana, in January. She was born with a damaged heart and has been fighting for her life for the past eight months while awaiting a heart transplant. Yesterday was a day of crisis, and the family has asked that we put out an all points bulletin for prayer. So please remember this beautiful little girl and her family in your prayers.

Best Friends

Joey's best friend, Kevin, and his beautiful family came to visit us last week. Kevin, his wife Molly, and adorable baby Josie, who was named after our son, brought love, laughter and comfort to our home. His mom, Melissa, who is my best friend, and her husband and her other two sons also came, and it was like the good old days when we all used to go on vacation together. It was emotional to see them, as we rarely ever saw Kevin apart from Joey, and it definitely felt like someone was missing. . .but seeing him also brought us tremendous joy and comfort. Jaime said it was like being with her brother again, and there was much happiness in our home while they were here.

Here Isabel gets to hold our sunshine girl, Josie.

Josie is always smiling great big twinkly smiles and she's obviously inherited major IQ points from her double veterinarian parents. At just over a year, she "speaks" sign language and can parrot just about anything you ask her to say.

On our last night together, we watched home movies of all of our kids growing up together those many years ago just a few doors apart on the same street. We have so many memories, they all run together. They grew up going to the same schools and the same church, and shared every barefoot summer vacation. Some of the videos we hadn't looked at in years. It was just so good to remember how much fun they all had together as children, and how richly interwoven our lives have been for so many decades. It takes time and hundreds of experiences to create that kind of bond.

In order left to right: Tom, Jeremy, Molly, Kevin, Joe, Josie, Ryan, Melissa.

I can't tell you how much I love these people.

They are the best kind of friends--with you on the mountain tops and down in the valleys, and every place in between.

Proverbs 18:24

There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

Hope in a Troubled World

This is the last time I saw my baby bird last weekend. He was nestled under the hedge and under his father's breast and trusting him to take care of him. In a similar way, I am trusting my Heavenly Father to take care of me. The father bird continues to stay in our yard, so I think the baby is hidden someplace safe.

At the beach on Sunday, I watched our pastors baptize some new believers. I love these beach baptisms. It's just a breezy, relaxing and refreshing way to worship God in one of the most beautiful places He created.

I especially like it with an assortment of people on the beach and body surfers all around watching the show. I think a beach baptism gives spectators pause to think about their own souls, and that's a meaningful thing for any of us.

Here's our little church, gathered on the sand and watching as Joe plays his guitar.

The question is, "Why would anyone in our modern world bother to get baptized?" Some view it as an outdated and irrelevant ritual, meaningless in our high-tech, but troubled world. With all the suffering around us, it's hard to believe in a God who cares, anyway.

But this girl's arm says it all.

God is Love.

It fills me with hope just to see it.

That simple phrase, God's declaration about His own character, lifts me from despair and allows me to bear the loss of my son, and all the other losses of this life.

(and even the sadness about the bird's nest.)

Despite what we see around us, we have a God who says He loves us. He tells us that no matter how things look, nothing can ever really separate us from His love. It's that irrepressible love, whispering quietly in my heart, that helps me patiently endure.

Romans 8:38-39

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

The Last Sweet Days of Summer

Labor Day Weekend has come and gone, and the lazy days of summer are really, truly over. Today everyone went back to school. We only have one grandchild left in elementary school which makes Joe and I a bit melancholy. We find ourselves (and maybe their mamas, too) trying to soak it all in before it's gone. We are fondly remembering those days when they were young and innocent and liked nothing better than to visit their Nana and Papa.

Of course, this new season has its own magic, and we watch with wonder as the four older ones grow and change, and become teens and young adults. But the other night, our tween-age granddaughters poured out some of the final drops of childhood and regaled us with a bike show while we sat in the front yard and laughed at all their antics. I haven't laughed like that in a very long time and it felt great.

Round and round they went, showing us their "tricks".

Feet on the handle bars...

No hands...

A shining smile for the audience...enough,

cuz he's still little, and we aren't going to allow him to grow up!

And ta-da-- standing on the frame.

I know, pretty impressive stuff.

We loved every minute of it, and they did too.

Don't grow up, please.

Not yet.

Joy Comes in the Morning

Despite yesterday's emotional breakdown, no one would accuse me of being overly-sentimental about animals. I'm just a border-line animal lover, and most of them don't even earn a nod from me. But the Mourning Dove family on my front porch was different. They didn't sniff, scratch or carry fleas. They didn't pee in my house. As they studiously sat on their nest, and warmed their eggs, and then fed their little hatchlings, three feet from my front door, I fell in love with them. I got a front row seat on a beautiful little miracle of nature.

So yesterday was devastating. Seeing the death of the mama dove and one of her hatchlings undid me. After that, the surviving baby and the daddy disappeared after I had returned the chick to the nest. I was afraid I had messed everything up by doing that. I hoped for the best and prayed for them, but I had no way of knowing what really happened to them.

Then I came home from my workout today to find this!! Yes, baby brother has found his way back up to the nest. All by himself!! Six feet off the ground, and somehow he had gotten back up to it! Quite an impressive accomplishment for a three inch tall downy/feathery person. I guess those little wings are figuring things out.

He was chirping for his breakfast when I discovered him. As I was stewing about how I was going to feed him, he did this:

He hopped/flew down to the rocker on my porch. As I was stewing about whether I should put him back in his nest, I saw this:

Papa Bird lurking on the edge of the porch! Not two feet away from his little one. Hiding from me, I think.

Ahh, prayer answered. They were TOGETHER. Papa was still on the job. What a faithful daddy he is! I know a few human fathers who could learn a lesson or two from this one.

And then this...Daddy hopped up on the porch, and the little hatchling hopped down from the rocker, and daddy proceeded to feed him his breakfast. Beak to beak.

Beautiful. Joy. Relief.

Then they hopped off together to their secret hiding place, for Flight School or Seed-cracking 101, or whatever comes next in baby's education.

Obviously, God has equipped them with powerful survival instincts, and maybe, just maybe, they can do this without me. Since I am completely clueless. And a bit emotional.

Hurricane Earl hits our shores this evening. I considered moving the nest along with all the other potted plants, but I changed my mind. I am just leaving it where it is to swing in the wild unruly winds that are coming our way. I am going to wire it to the hook so it won't blow off. And then, when the winds stop, the mourning doves will know RIGHT. WHERE. TO GO.

(Sigh...I love 'em and I can't stop myself.)

(PS-thanks for all the love and comfort yesterday. It helped a lot.)

Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5

Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

If there is anything I've learned these last two years, it's that the world is a dangerous, sad and unpredictable place. I know that nature can be both beautiful and brutal. In spite of that knowledge, some of it on a visceral level, I was wholly unprepared for what I woke up to this morning.

I opened the door only to find that our little nest with the sweet dove family had been knocked from its hook by a predator. The geranium basket was sitting on the hedge, full of feathers, but the nest was completely EMPTY. NO babies, NO mama. Just feathers everywhere. It looked like a crime scene.

Here is the geranium basket sitting on the hedge. I suspect a cat simply walked across the railing of my porch and swatted the pot with it's fragile cargo. It made safe landing on the hedge, but was then perfectly positioned for easy attack.

I could see from the mixture of long mama feathers and short downy baby feathers, that Mama put up a huge fight to protect her babies. There were signs of struggle as the feathers covered an area three feet in diameter.

My heart just absolutely sank. I got a lump in my throat. I fought back tears. How could this have happened? Is anything safe anymore?

But the ground was covered in feathers, and it just broke my heart.

So. very. sad.

I lifted the basket with its empty nest back up on the hook. I called my husband and burst into tears, telling him the tragic story of our little doves. I called my daughters and did the same with them. I cried like it was my own child, and so I guess I was crying for that all over again too.

I cannot get used to the cruelty of death and the disappointment of life. It hurts so much. Even when it's just a family of Mourning Doves.

I had an appointment, so I donned my sunglasses to cover my red eyes and blotchy face. While I was out, my daughter, JoAnne, came and cleaned up the mess. We wanted to protect the neighborhood children from seeing it. They've been watching the unfolding story along with us.

When I returned home, I found the father bird, sitting on the ground under the nest waiting for his wife and babies to return. That undid me. It broke my heart all over again. It's too close to my own story of loss, and all I could see was my husband waiting for our son to come back.

Mourning doves mate for life, so his little grey dove of a wife isn't returning, either.

I went in the house and had a big cry/why? session with God.

My daughter, Jaime, knowing how upset I was, brought me flowers.

I've been in and out all day, checking on the daddy bird, who faithfully sat at his post.

Waiting.

(story continued below)

What Happened Next

The daddy bird came at his appointed time to take his shift, and to do his morning feeding, only to find the nest empty and his little family gone.

He sat under the hedge for hours, just waiting for them.

I know it's the daddy because the light blue ring around his eye is wider than the mama's.

He was just sitting, waiting, not moving, not even disturbed by me photographing him.

It was incredibly poignant.

Several hours later, as I checked on him again, this time I noticed some little eyes peeping out from behind him. Can you see that little ball of grey down with eyes near daddy's tail feathers? One of the babies survived the attack! Daddy was guarding him.

Hallelujah!! Joy and hope revived.

At least half of this precious little family survived, and somehow that helps.

But what now? The ground is not a safe place for a 2" chunk of fluff. I did some internet research and it said to put the hatchling back into the nest. So with a gloved hand, I lifted him back up. The father bird was very distressed over this and was making a huge ruckus. He was flapping his wings double time and dragging them across the grass. He was in turmoil. That was so hard to watch. I felt like a villain. I'm not sure I did the right thing. I prayed that the father would figure out what I was doing and settle back down.

He did settle, but he stayed in his position on the ground, near the edge of the hedge. He couldn't seem to find the fledgling or the nest. I called the animal control people and asked them what to do, and they told me to watch and wait till the morning. If he still hadn't found the nest by then, then they would pick up the little orphan bird and feed it.

.

Here the hatchling sits in the nest...on the very, very edge. He's peeking out with his beak under the center leaf. About an hour later he moved in to the center of the nest, and looked very content to be there. Ahh, breathe. It's going to be okay, I tell myself.

A half hour later I checked on him again. Alas, he was GONE. Completely GONE. Not hiding under the leaves, not hiding under the hedge and no daddy bird in sight anywhere. Strangely, that soothed me. If that loyal, protective father was gone, after standing watch all day, then I think he found a way. He wouldn't leave without his baby and somehow he just figured out a way to get his baby to a safer place altogether. In chirping bird words, he told his baby to jump and he did and he flapped and hit the ground and they took off for a better place.

I am hoping that with all my heart.

(And I am exhausted.)

Fledglings

If you've been following my "Nest Watch", you may know that Mourning Dove parents share the childcare duties. The mother sits on the nest from dusk till dawn, and the father sits on the nest during the day. For the past two days, our birdy daddy has been increasingly absent. Hmmm. I'm not judging, but yeah, I noticed.

They are so sweet and adorable. They still have down-covered heads, but as you can see, their feathers are defined and growing with each day. Daddy Bird's absence has given me more photo ops, but frankly, I'm concerned. With Hurricane Earl approaching our shores, I'm anticipating stormy weather this weekend. If daddy isn't going to protect them when the wind and rains come, who is? I'm saying my prayers for our little babies cuz now I'm attached.

If anyone has any knowledge about a safe way to protect these hatchlings without disturbing the parent/child bond, I'd love to hear from you. They will be 2 weeks old on Saturday.

Babies!

We got another peek!

Mom and Dad are both gone, likely catching worms and seedy things to make bird milk for their babies.

So we nosed in with our camera, careful not to touch.

The babies seem completely unruffled by our intrusion.

They haven't been to survival school yet, so they don't know that they are supposed to be afraid of us.

They are getting little feathers, a process called "fledging". One more week and they will be "full fledged". Baby birds grow up fast.

Two more weeks after that, they are supposed to be out of the nest.

Seems awfully soon for something so little and vulnerable.

Stay, little birds, and I will take care of you.

Mourning Doves

Thank you, Robin, for correctly identifying our porch birds, especially from those small photos on my blog. It always impresses me when people can do that! I've done my internet research and found out some interesting facts about mourning doves, so I am sharing them with you here. Most of the information is from the Cornell University website called "NestWatch".

1. They are monogamous and mate for life. (For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer...just like Joe and I.)

2. The father sits on the nest during the day, and the mother through the night. So it's usually the father that we see during the day. One parent bird is always with the hatchlings. Sounds extremely nurturing and sensible. I especially like that the fathers do 50% of the childcare.

3. They are a common species and live all over our continent (so you probably have one or two around your own front porch. Hang a few baskets and see what happens.)

4. Their flight is fast and bullet straight. But they eat seed off the ground which makes them vulnerable to cats and other predators. Wisely, they prefer to build their nests off the ground.

5. Their soft drawn out coos sound like laments, hence their name. It sounds like "woo-OO-oo-oo".

6. The chicks are cared for by their parents in the nest for 25-27 days. So we figure they will be here for about three more weeks.

7. The chicks will fledge (get their flying feathers ) 15 days after hatching. Perhaps one more week till that happens. They are soft little balls of gray down right now.

8. Their nests are flimsy platforms of twigs and sticks, and they lay two eggs at a time. I had seen a loose nest in the basket, but figured it was from early summer and the birds were long gone. Not so. They re-used their own previously built nest. Recyclers.

9. They have two or three nests a season. That explains the late summer nest, and also them being here all summer long. And they may be back next year. Once they find a spot, they stick to it. Next time, I'll be paying attention.

10. Due to its frequent breeding, and wide range across the continent, "Zenaida Macroura" is not considered an endangered species. Oh good. I can relax.

Luke 12:6

Are not five sparrows sold for two pence? and not one of them is forgotten in the sight of God.

On Our Front Porch

Do you see that eye peeking out through the leaves?

That bird has been sitting in our geranium plant swinging on the front porch all summer long.

We thought he just had found the perfect little home and welcomed him by ignoring him.

Can anyone identify this beautiful grey bird with a slender black beak?

About 10 days ago I noticed that his eyes would widen as I got closer.

He seemed to go on high alert.

As I was absentmindedly watering the plant, the bird fluttered off in a big show of feathers and noise. It occurred to me to pull the plant down from its hook and take a look.

Duh. Call me a city slicker. Slow on the uptake.

Lo and behold, he's not a he, he's a mama! Of the first order.

Sitting on her eggs. Protecting them from the likes of us and our watering hoses.

Close-up of said eggs. As close as I dared anyway.

Notice the water spots.

Fortunately, eggs are nice and waterproof.

10 days later, today to be exact--babies!! Grey chunks of fluff!

Snuggling next to empty eggs. Beautiful little hatchlings, the same color as mama.

On our front porch. In our geranium basket.

My goodness, life is surprising!

A little thing like this can make your whole day.

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

Matthew 6:26

Isaiah 25:8

He will swallow up death forever.

The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears

from all faces.

Mourning Another Birthday

Joseph Neal Johnson 8/17/79-5/22/08

I miss you, beautiful son.

Miss your presence here with us.

Miss your warmth and humor, your enthusiasm for life, your insight and interested mind.

I miss getting hugged by you. Tall tender hugs. No one hugs me like that anymore.

I loved being your mother. I felt so proud of you. I loved your vibrance--that red hair and those deep brown eyes and the radiant, ever-ready smile.

I miss the closeness we all felt with you, and the way you enjoyed being with us.

I miss traveling with you, meeting up at the airport someplace, and exploring the world through your lively commentary and alert eyes.

I miss my cultural guide, and your efforts to keep me properly informed.

You, my son with an opinion on everything, also listened.

I loved our talks.

Playing music with your dad, or talking investment schemes. Laughing with your sisters and brother-in-laws. Entertaining your beloved nieces and nephews. Surfing, eating, traveling with Rachel. Rushing at life with Kevin and JR and Theo and Josh and so many others. And music.

Your life was rich with the sound of melodies

rising up.

Your voice --a song.

Cut short.

I can hardly wait to open the door one day and find you standing there.

Radiant and alive.

I miss you so, beautiful son.

For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16

Pushing Forward

So much, since the moment my son died, has been a push forward. Push forward to make the arrangements, push forward to do a memorial service, push forward to pack up his house and the precious pieces of his life, push forward to get up the next day. Push forward to pack again, this time moving your own life cross-country. Push forward to unpack, resettle, begin again. Push forward while your feet are in concrete, your heart has stopped, and your life looks like a disaster film.

Pushing forward is what we do when we HAVE to do. Push forward is for painful but unavoidable things. It's not like running forward. That is reserved for pleasure, for the beautiful and the delightful things in life. Pushing forward is a discipline and an obedience. I can see how people weary of pushing forward and just let go. I get that. It's grim and tiring and relentless and sometimes seems pointless. What's it all for? We're all going to die anyway. (A newly acquired insight--I'm not sure how I missed that before.)

I have found new solace in a reminder from Rick Warren's book The Purpose-Driven Life. He gives a quick summary of life by simply saying, "life is a test, a trust and a temporary assignment". Easy to say, easy to remember, easy to mentally grab when I'm at a loss for direction. Basic. Helpful. Anchoring. Comforting.

The "test" part is easy enough to see. For me, right now, the test is whether or not I will trust the God who has declared His love for me, even though I walk a dark valley. Or will I only trust Him on the sunny days, when the cupboards are full and the car doesn't break down? In my heart and in my will, after the loss of Joey, I've re-made a decision to trust His good character. I believe Him when He says all things will ultimately work together for good. I've released my expectations of what He has to do for me in this life. I'm counting on Him showing me someday, detail by detail, how He wove my sad story into a bigger, more beautiful story of redemption. I'm trusting Him to turn my water into wine.

The "trust" part of my purpose-driven life is a little more complicated. It means I've been entrusted to do something good with the bad in my life. I can trust God to do good with bad, but can He trust me? Can the people around me trust me? Will I show them a way through suffering and loss that's honest but also hopeful? Will my life story kill their faith and joy, or will it build it? Will I leave them unsure, unstable and doubting, or will my story reassure them that their faith in God can carry them through whatever losses and trials life brings them? That's where I live right now. I still have more questions than answers, but I know what I'm wishing for. I'm reaching for hope, for the sake of my grandchildren, and my daughters, and anyone else who may be watching me. That is the engine that gets me out of bed when the clock strikes 7 am and I start another day of living by faith in the midst of crucial, unyielding disappointment.

The fact that life is a temporary assignment helps. That's the most comforting part of Warren's three-part equation. I couldn't live with an eternity of loss and grief, but I can live with a season of it. God was indeed merciful to make the average human lifespan short enough that we could get to the end of it, make the cross over, and then, after all that, find everything we'd ever been longing for on the other side of it. (Need I mention that this only inspires gratitude when it's not your child whose lifespan is short?)

I am thankful for the statistical brevity of my own numbered days. I feel I can make the journey. However difficult my days are here, I am certain there's something so very good waiting for me on the other side, and that gives me strength to bear the burdens of this life. In this moment, my work is unfinished. There are tasks and lessons and people with which I have been entrusted. I don't have a big, impressive plan, (wish I did) but I do want to sort it out and live the truth and give it my best. I do want to finish well.

And so, I push forward.

Philippians 3:14
I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Mid-Summer Grandchild Update

It's a hot, hot summer, but the kids are managing to have fun anyway. Kids are like that.

All except this one.

He cut his Achilles tendon on a piece of broken glass while taking out the trash. Bad trash. Bad cut.

He earned himself a night in the hospital, and 3 months in a cast.

Hockey, his 5-day a week habit, is disappointingly off the agenda till the Fall.

So is swimming, surfing, and a full shower.

He's got a great attitude about it though.

Helped along, I think, by the X-box that was waiting for him at home.

Unless he has to pose for too many pictures. That makes him grumpy.

But he pulls it together for one more shot.

The "Money Shot".

This one is filed under "war stories" and it is the one he'll show his female friends.

Back at the ranch, the rest of the kids are adept at finding swimming pools to cool down in.

This high-flying jump was after summer (read "sweaty") soccer practice.

And then there's the blessed miracle of water parks. We've got to kiss the feet of the fine folks who invented these things. Hours of cool fun in the too hot sun.

Smiling faces...

Cool refreshment...

Happy kids!

We are finding ways to get through our long, hot summer and look forward to the beautiful Fall season in Virginia. That's the very best time of year here. Still, it's so good to be near our grandchildren, no matter the temperature or the season. They truly make our life worth living.