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Showing posts with label flood cleanup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flood cleanup. Show all posts

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Falling Out Of Summer



Extreme heat and humidity, bumper crops of weeds,
tomatoes that went nowhere, grapes that are feeding
the local deer . . . then, an earthquake and
a hurricane-turned-tropical-storm . . . .
for the first time I can remember,
I am more than ready to say Scram! to Summer, 
and Hello, Sailor! to Fall.

  

Borrowing from an old post, about a year ago, and linking to Sunday Favorites and Seasonal Sundays.
Links are below!

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If I were an adult-ed art teacher, and I looked at the palette that Mother Nature had picked out for her Autumn scenes, I'd probably tell her to tone it down.  "It's a bit much, dear," I'd say.  "How about fewer brilliant oranges and reds?  Maybe a touch of the neutral here and there, give the eye a rest?"

Thank goodness I am not Mother Nature's art teacher.

She's bold, our Mother Nature, and she ain't afraid of gaudy.
(In fact, I suspect she wears too much jewelry, loves purple,
and teases her hair, but that's material for another post.)

Anyway, Mother Nature sure bids Summer goodbye with sizzle.

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  In the dining room at That Old House,
the table is set for two, for an early Autumn supper.



The expected oranges and golds and reds and yellows are all there;
even some brown to represent the leaves falling outside.

But to give Summer it's due -- after all, it is in the 80s today --
there's the soft blue of summer's water and sky.

There wouldn't be those brilliant hues of Autumn
without, first, the clear blues and greens of Summer.


$1 Aqua blue plates from Dollar Tree,
$1 painted pottery bowls (they have touches of blue-green in their leaves) from the defunct Cost Cutters drugstore chain,
thrift store handblown wineglasses in watery blue,
Dollar Tree tea light birds,
very vintage plaid linen napkins,
my century-old Georgian silverplate flatware,
and my Mom's old pewter S&P shakers,
plus a bargain bin brown poly tablecloth,
an old bittersweet faux wreath, a ceramic pumpkin, some faux fruit, and an old black iron candleholder.





And that's it!
A table that mixes the bright and gaudy colors of Fall with the soft blues of Summer.
Just what I need right now, as I'm not completely ready to let go of those lazy days.

Have a lovely Sunday! -- Cass


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Good News!  My sister and her husband went out to the family beach house this weekend -- and report that all is well following Irene.  The water did breach the bulkhead and surround the house, but didn't get high enough to reach inside.  Except for a couple of slightly off-kilter shingles, and shrubbery and trees burned brown by the wind-driven salt, no damage. We are lucky, and grateful.

Today will be my 5th day of joining with other church members, making and delivering bagged lunches to flooded-out residents in affected neighborhoods who are beginning the long cleanup; we average 400 lunches a day.  On Saturday, Howard and Anne were my "runners," as they will be today, and we made it into a couple of areas previously un-reachable by car, driving through thick mud and dodging the bigger puddles.  It takes awhile for the smell of a flood to leave your nostrils, and the mosquitoes are just beginning to come out in fierce force.  Anyone know a good non toxic mosquito repellant?  If so, let us know!  :-)

Link Parties!
It's Sunday Favorites at Happy To Design.  Click here!
At The Tablescaper, it's Seasonal Sunday.  Click here!

Seasonal Sunday Teapot copy

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Feeding His Lambs


John 21:15  NRSV
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter,
"Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?"
He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you."
Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs."


When our daughter Alida was 16, she asked our permission to join a group of adults and young people for a two-week trip to Bosnia, where they would run day camps for children.  The trip was sponsored by our church's New Jersey synod.  The purpose?  To give these children, who lived with the grim shadows of their civil war all around them, a day of pure fun . . . and to let them know that people cared.

Her father and I discussed it; we decided that 16 was too young for this.
We told her to wait a year, and see if she still wanted to go.
She did.
With some many misgivings, and after prayer and much discussion, we said Okay.

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But I asked her, wouldn't it be better to send money to Bosnia,
for rebuilding, for job creation, for schools?
Why did a bunch of Americans
have to go and play with Bosnian children?

Because of Alida's age, Howard and I went to the planning meetings for this trip.
Not surprisingly, this question came up from more than one parent:
why not fund raise and send funds, instead of yourselves?

The trip coordinator, Jason Reed, quoted the Bible verse I put at the beginning of this post.

In that post-Resurrection conversation,
Jesus tells Peter to feed His lambs.


To feed a newborn lamb takes patience, and presence;
you can't just throw food at it from a distance.
You need to hold it, and bottle feed it, and care for it faithfully.  It needs you to be there.

That, said Jason, is why we go.  We are feeding His lambs,
feeding them with our love and care, our games and laughter and song.

Those weren't his exact words -- it's been a long time -- but you get the idea.
And I got it, too, and (kind of reluctantly) understood.

 The physical presence of the Americans
among these children was in itself a gift to them.


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I thought of Jason and his explanation today, as Anne and I helped bring bagged lunches
to people who have lost so much in the recent flooding.
  
They were hungry as they cleaned out their sodden living rooms
and began hacking at their walls and flooring; the food was certainly welcome.
That's daughter Anne knocking on the door; no one was home at this house.

But I realized as we moved through this once-lovely neighborhood, that being there was also important.
Waiting for the trash trucks.

It means a lot.  If you've been in a similar circumstance, you know what I mean.
Even the smallest kindness, like a simple bagged lunch, and a smile, can lift your spirits.

Someone came.  Someone cares.

Annie has gone back to school; classes and her work start tomorrow.
But I will be joining the other church ladies for as long as there is need,
feeding His lambs.

Thank you Anne and Judy and Emily for being the runners for the red minivan today!

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Best comment of the day:
Elderly lady, sitting amidst the rubble of her home, to Anne:  "Where are you from again?"
Anne:  "The Lutheran church on the Turnpike."
Elderly lady:  "Ah, trying to show up the Reformed Church, are ya?"
How did she know?  :-)
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I'm afraid I can't remember how many times Alida went back to Bosnia.  Four?  Five?
I can't say that those two weeks each summer weren't fraught with anxiety for me,
and seeing her come through customs at Kennedy Airport each time was a great joy.

Alida has written about a few of her experiences in Bosnia on a blog (like mother, like daughter).
Some posts are book reviews, others are about the trips.
You can visit Journeys of a Jersey Girl by clicking here.

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And special for my Jersey Girl who now lives in California,
a final flood picture for today, of a favorite high school destination:

Anne and I drove through this little downtown area on our way home from church;
the waters have left the streets and shops, but it's a massive cleanup job.

I'm sorry I am not posting my usual stuff,
and I apologize for not getting to as many of your posts as I'd like;
I'll be back in form soon, I promise!  -- Cass