Lightning Bugs

As a little girl growing up in Tennessee, one of my favorite things to do on a summer evening was catch lightning bugs. I thought it great fun to watch the little things blink on, take a few steps towards them and wait for them to blink again. If the night wasn’t very dark, I could often squint through the darkness and catch them when they were not lit, but most often I had to wait until they blinked on near me. Then I would catch them in the palm of my hand, carry them to a jar, and drop them in. Katey and I would put our jar of lightning bugs on the dresser near our bed at night and watch them blink on and off until we fell asleep. The next morning, we would let those that had survived the night go…only to catch them again a few night later.

In New England and Texas, lightning bugs are not as plentiful. Perhaps it is too cold or too hot, but there are very few and hardly enough to fill a jar for a night. In Indiana though…

I wish I could take a picture, but my night time photography skills are non-existent (and my camera probably isn’t set up to do what I would like it to anyhow). But I hope you can imagine the vast darkness of the Midwest plains at night. You look out over them and little lights blink on and off as far as the eye can see. Lightning bugs – one of God’s wonderful little creations.

New Hampshire-sickness

This week we had visitors all the way from New Hampshire. They arrived Monday afternoon, driving through the night with only a few stops. The moment I heard Maura’s lively squeal as she walked through the door, I felt a pain of “New Hampshire-sickness”. It was so wonderful to spend time with the Blutts and enjoy a bit of New Hampshire in our home again.

This week has been a New Hampshire week, and so I have felt a bit homesick for the home we left seven months ago. Maura’s laugh and Maegen’s disdainful huffs about boys. Isaiah’s endless chatter and Mr. Blutt’s teasing. Mrs. Blutt’s hugs and stories from those we love. I talked to the Hardys this week and had to go look up an algebra problem to help James with. Allyson and I talked for over an hour, Violet said she missed me, Caleb told me about his pretend house he had built, and even Seth said “Hi!” and “Bye-bye”. I got a card from Ashley and a note from Dakota, two of the kids at church I taught. And today a surprise package arrived in the mail from Melanie, another young friend.

And so I have laughed and I have cried. (The movie Up didn’t help…but what a great movie!) I have remembered and enjoyed. Friends, family, love. Isn’t it all a blessing?

Cooking out at Turkey Run State Park.

On the suspension bridge at the park.

Playing kickball at the park.

A grand finish up 66 stairs!

Eating pizza near the railway station in downtown Lafayette.

On the bridge over the Wabash River.

Sonic Happy Hour!!!

To prove I have worked today:



I finished editing my children’s novel! (Well, for the first time…)

It’s one of those days when I come to write my blog and have no inspiration. I’m not sure why. It isn’t as if I’ve lived a dull life as late. For the past week, my grandfather from Texas has been visiting. He took each of us out to lunch. We all went out for Chinese one night. Another evening we went to a state park where we played tennis and basketball, cooked hotdogs and s’mores, and took a short walk over a suspension bridge. I showed him around the town of Lafayette a little, and we drove around Purdue which is really a beautiful campus. I had a writer’s group meeting on Tuesday night. Life certainly hasn’t been dull, yet there doesn’t seem to be anything interesting to write.

I must say I am glad not to be living out of suitcase any longer. I’ve been living out of one for over a month. In fact, as I put away my pajamas this morning I had to stop and think about which drawer they belong in! (I think I’m getting a bit old…my siblings noticed I have grey hairs. True – and I’ve had them for quite some time.)

The Lord has been very gracious to me this past week. On Tuesday I was out running errands with my dad and my check engine light came on. I thought little critter had gotten into my engine and died there for on Monday when I turned the A/C on, it didn’t smell very good. We were able to take it to a mechanic that night. The next day he called and told me it was the computer. Hyundai even had a notice up about this particular problem, but he couldn’t fix it. So I had to call the local Hyundai dealer and ask him about it. Could they fix it and was the problem covered under my warranty? They could fix it and, no, it wouldn’t cost me a penny. So, I went and picked up the car on Wednesday morning and – wonderful surprise – the mechanic didn’t charge me a thing for his work either! Isn’t God good?

You may notice I have added another little sidebar to my blog. It’s my writing goals for the week. Another incentive to keep me on track. And if you ever want to comment and ask if I got one of those things done, please do. The more people keeping on top of me, the better.

More guests are coming next week: family friends from NH. It will be a lively week, but I intend to lock myself in my room for much of it. For I have query letters to write, publishing research to do, and the never-ending task of editing. And when I need a break, well, there will be plenty of distractions to choose from!

Views of Milwaukee

I told my aunt when we were wandering about Milwaukee snapping pictures that these would be perfect for my blog. Her reply, “You mean I’m going to be on the internet?!?!” Well, just to insure that she is…

The grave of my great-great grandparents Joseph and Mary Sturm. (Their son’s name is here, but he is not buried with them.)

The grave of my great-grandparents Joseph and Ruth Sturm. (It’s a little hard to see the beautiful details of this marker, but my great-grandfather designed and carved all but his own date before he died.)

The graves of my grandmother and aunt Mary Louise, who died when she was six months old.

The first house my grandparents lived in after they were married. My dad and one of his sisters were born here. They lived in the downstairs front left.

The inside of Basilica of St. Josaphat where my grandparents were married.

One of the two infamous Milwaukee custard places we had to try. (It was good, but it doesn’t come close to NH ice cream!)

The family who gathered for the burial service including us, two of my aunts, my grandfather, my grandmother’s oldest living sister (Aunt Julie who is 92 and going strong), both her sons, and two of the sons of her eldest son.

“The gang” overlooking Lake Michigan.

My dad, grandfather and aunts Camille and Patty.

Family Histories

I’ve always wanted to live in a family with a history. I don’t mean to say that my family doesn’t have stories from the past. I have family members that fought in every war this nation has been a part of. I’ve had prisoners of war in the family, slave owners, whiskey makers, explorers to the South Pole and people with very strange names. But my family doesn’t talk about their past. My grandparents don’t talk about their parents or siblings. My parents don’t talk a lot about the family they met. There are so many skeletons in our family’s closets, they’d haunt an entire city.

But this week, I learned about my family. And I learned some really cool things.

My grandfather is up for the week. He, my Dad (who flew down to Texas to help with the drive) and Sally drove up to our house Monday where two of my aunts met them. My aunts and grandfather drove to Milwaukee on Tuesday and the rest of us followed on Wednesday. The purpose of the trip was to bury my grandmother’s ashes and re-bury my aunt who died as an infant next to her near my great-grandparents. So other family members came for the service – my great-aunt Julie (my grandmother’s sister), her two sons Mike and Dan and two of Dan’s sons Rory and Alex. One of my grandfather’s cousins, who lives in Milwaukee, also came with her husband. After the service, we had a luncheon. The next day we toured Milwaukee and then sat down in Aunt Julie’s house for a time of family stories.

Have you ever been on one of those tours where you hang a walkman around your neck, put earphones on and hit numbers in order to listen to a tour guide explain to you a room or object you’re looking at? That is what our tour through Milwaukee was like. We toured the life of my grandparents and parents through the streets of Milwaukee – one cell phone in my grandfather’s car and one in us. Grandpa told us about the many houses he had lived in, the houses his parents had lived in, the houses my great aunt and uncle owned, the college my grandmother went to, the house my dad was born in, and the beautiful Catholic Ballista my grandparents were married in. My aunts and dad added commentary from their memories as kids when they visited there. It was very interesting.

At Aunt Julie’s we sat around the living room looking at old black and white pictures and listening to stories my nearly 92 year old Aunt Julie can remember (and that is a lot!) and the stories her son Dan knows from his growing up years, the papers and things he found on the family farm before the buildings were burned down, and other stories he has heard. It’s a little hard to explain it all, for he is somehow connected to both sides of my family even though he is related by my grandmother’s side. But I heard stories of the carvings my great-grandfather made (he was a stone mason who carved beautiful gravestones). My great-uncle Francis, injured in an accident, enlisted in WWII and did mortuary duty in Washington. My great-great uncle Konstantyn (known as “Uncs”) was a Polish immigrant who enlisted in the American army to fight in WWI, was posted in Alaska, and went with Admiral Perry to the Arctic. Lead feet is hereditary in my family – apparently there was more than one great-aunt or uncle who tore around the roads of Upper Peninsula Michigan at break-neck speed.

Families are interesting things. They have their joys and their sorrows. They have their open celebrations and skeletons. They love one another and hate one another. And somewhere within all those people, there are stories. Wonderful, fascinating stories. Enough to write a book…

Locked Out

Okay, I admit to moments of stupidity…moments that come more and more often the older I get. I had one yesterday.

These moments always seem to come when I think I have it all together. On a Sunday morning when I am driving to church that means purse, keys, cell phone, Bible and hat. But this Sunday I was headed to church from a new direction, so it should have also meant directions. Of course, I forgot them. I walked out of the house I’m housesitting at, locked the backdoor behind me, went to my car and realized I didn’t have the directions. I tried to replay them aloud to Grace (for they really weren’t that difficult), but then I decided I would rather be safe than sorry. I turned to go back inside and get them…when I remembered I didn’t have the house key.

I don’t know what you do in moments like these, but I rush through my options like I’m reading a multiple choice question:

A) There must be a hidden key somewhere – find it.
B) Call the Elliotts and ask where the hidden key is – except I don’t have their phone number in my cell phone.
C) The Elliotts son attends the church and Ryan must have a key – worse comes to worse, I can follow his family home and get it.
D) Panic – and pray!

I chose A with a mix of D. Grace and I started the hunt, while I prayed the Lord would have mercy on my stupidity and we would find a key. Well, we didn’t find a key but the Lord did have mercy on my stupidity. I “just happened” to try the backdoor – it opened! Thank God for old houses with doors that don’t shut properly!

That morning I had been reading from 1 Kings 10. It’s the passage that contains the downfall of Solomon: his gazillion wives, his turning from God, his gathering of horses and prosperity. God warns him that his kingdom will be split into two – but in God’s mercy, it will not happen in Solomon’s lifetime and nor will God take the complete nation of Israel from the line of David. I had been thinking about how stupid Solomon was, and I had been considering how often I also sin again and again. Yet how merciful and gracious is my God! I admit, I had been thinking more about how sinful I am than how merciful God is, so God decided to teach me a little lesson. For I am as sinful and stupid as the day is long, but what does it matter when my God’s mercies are new every morning? And that is what I need to remember.

I have never had two housesitting jobs the same, even if I return to the same house. I’ve experienced the electricity shorting out without a flashlight to be found in the entire house. Once a close bolt of lightning knocked out the garage door mechanism, the phones, and the internet connection. I’ve cared for both dachshunds and blood hounds, young dogs and old. This time I have survived marble-sized hail and five kittens.

In some ways these five little rascals are normal every day kittens. In other ways, they are not. For they are being brought up in a very organic home. Which means no canned cat food. Their diet is raw meat and fresh milk. Easy enough when everything is left in the freezer, but I don’t think they would care what they eat as long as they’re fed. On the normal side, the little things are frisky, and cute, and playful. They live in the detached garage which is protected by wire mesh so they can’t get out. Well, that’s the idea anyhow. After Grace and I spent several hours wondering if we would ever get one escapee out from under the back concrete steps, we closed off the doorway they typically flee through. But now two of them have learned to climb the taller wire meshing and jump out. When I came back from my morning jog one was playing in the bushes. The other one – still traumatized by our chasing him out from under the steps – quickly climbed back up the wire and into the garage the moment I approached.

Isn’t it funny how each kitten has its own personality? One is little, small, and runs when you come near. Another is very bold and comes right up to you. A third is shy but so curious he gets stuck under concrete steps. A fourth is content whatever his lot. The fifth one is the most personable. He’s playful, energetic and not shy, but nor is he an aggressive bully. Grace thinks we should take him home. Her dog would love a pet of his own (although we now have two bunnies). But, somehow, I don’t think that’s going to happen. The two cats we have are more than enough.

“You lived to die…”

So go the words of a song we sung at the writer’s conference – those four little words capturing my attention. They spoke of Christ, coming to earth to live, only to die. That was the purpose. He was born to mankind, walked this difficult earth, and died for our sins. Three days later He rose again – conquering sin and death on our behalf.

But as I thought about these words, it came to me that we all live to die. For – unless Christ returns before our end – we will all see death. Therefore, we live in order to die. Quite simple, really.

I’m sure you’ve been asked the question: “If you died tomorrow, what would you do today?” Read War and Peace? Sky dive? See Paris? Go on a picnic with your family? Write your will and set your affairs in order? We would all say and do something different. And the truth is, you will die…some tomorrow.

I think a more important question is: “Since I am going to die, how am I living until that day?” Christ lived to die. Every day had meaning and purpose. He had His eyes set upon the cross. You live to die. Whether you think about it or not, your eyes are set upon a gravestone in a cemetery. Until you get there, does your life have meaning and purpose?

It’s a question I have to ask myself. What am I doing today that gives purpose? What am I doing today that glorifies my God? Do I live as my Savior?