Eve of Leap Day

On a stretchy
clear string,

I strung tiny beads
and charms –

chosen from

partitions in
a clear box

or

held in
plastic cups –

passed

around

two

tables

of

women



gathered
in a local
coffee-shop
corner

to

celebrate

their faith




by making
bracelets
reflective –

in color,
texture
and
pattern –



of their
own
individuality.



"Huh...
You're wearing
yours too!"

they now say
remembering
their bond on the
Eve of Leap Day.

Noah's Namesake

"You see this man?" I showed Noah a photo in today's newpaper. Noah nodded. "You were named "William" after him."

"You mean Noah William?" our seven-year-old asked. I smiled, " Noah 'W' was what Dad called you. Because you were born–"


"I know. I know," Noah interjected, "on President's Day in 2000."

"On Election Day," I corrected. "That's the day we decide who BECOMES the new president."

I retold my first grader the story of his birthday. How his father and I left home in a heavy rain shower to vote when the polls opened at 7 AM on November 7th. We then went to the hospital to induce labor for his birth. The whole day while I was in labor, his dad – a man who would have given TV character Alex P. Keaton a run for his money – had the TV going full bore on CNN to watch and wait for the election returns. Dad prayed: should Bush win and our baby be a boy, the child would be named "George W." to mark this day. But Dad was sure on this third go-round, we would have a girl.

"By suppertime, we had you – a baby boy," I told Noah. "That Election Day was very special. Al Gore had the most people votes. But George W. Bush had the most state votes. Al Gore demanded to recount the votes. The process took more than a month and a Supreme Court ruling to decide that George W. Bush was the new president."

"But we couldn't wait weeks to name our baby," I said. "We had to name you before we left the hospital. It took two days for Dad to agree to the name already picked out."

A couple months before Noah's birth, I was reading Bible stories with Isaac and Aaron. I asked the boys: "What do you think we should name the new baby?" At first Aaron said, "Tractor" because it was his favorite toy. We laughed and decided that wouldn't work for a baby. Then Aaron said, "Noah!"

Isaac said, "He built the ark."

"Noah..." I repeated. "I like that: Isaac, Aaron and Noah."

I didn't breathe a word to Dan. We'd had trouble agreeing on names for the older two. Isaac was born 11 days after his due date. We agreed on his name a couple DAYS before his birth. We picked "Isaac" because the name means "joyous laughter;" and in the Bible, Isaac was the first son of Abraham and Sara. We picked Aaron's name a couple HOURS before his birth – while I was in early stages of labor. "Aaron" means "exalted on high;" and Aaron was a great biblical figure speaking for and along side his younger brother Moses.

For me, the third name choice was narrowed back to the Bible. Dan scoffed at the idea, chastising: "When are you gonna think outside of the box?"

"Right! Let's see. How about Isaac, Aaron and Hunter?" I mocked. He said, "It doesn't have to be that obvious."

To avoid the bantering, I simply said: "I've got the names all picked out."

And by heaven's grace, it rained and poured – just like in the biblical times of Noah – all that Election Day during a Minnesota November. I took the rainy occurrence as sign because the next morning heavy snow began to fall.

"Your dad finally gave in," I told Noah. "His next question was: What about Noah's middle name?"

"I said, How about William after William F. Buckley? That way, it doesn't matter who becomes president. Noah will still be named after a conservative – a great one at that. And if Bush does win, we can call the baby "Noah W." – just like George W."

"And so on your birth certificate, that's what the nurse typed: Noah William," I finished my story to Noah and pointed back at the newspaper photo. "William F. Buckley was your dad's hero and he's your namesake."

Kindred Spirits

Some people

come into our lives

touching us deeply

in ways yet unknown.


Years – even decades – may pass before we our paths intertwine again. At first, we remember each other sketchily. Within moments, we piece together our former times and similar interests. In this go-round, maturity draws us closer – almost instantaneously.

"I think we must be kindred spirits," this long-lost college friend emailed me today in response to a life synopsis I sent her last night. Days ago, she'd left me a one-line message on an internet bulletin board. I returned her message with four lines. Soon she gave me her email address and the interchanges began to fly – profoundly so...

Only weeks ago, I'd prayed for someone like this to come into my life. And from what I've read between her lines, she was doing the same. I call it: Heaven's intervention uniting Kindred Spirits.

I saw its evidence reflected in the clouds under tonight's last light!

She REIGNS

"I get to ice fish today!" Aaron said jumping out of bed.

Today was his school's Rewards Day.

Students with good behavior, grades and attendance got to choose to spend the school day skiing, tubing or ice fishing.

What baffled Aaron was how one classmate opted to spend the day in the classroom. Our die-hard fisherman explained, "She doesn't like any of the winter stuff. I told her: Okay. I can understand not liking skiing. I can even understand not liking tubing. But I CAN'T understand not liking Ice Fishing!"

"Especially when she's from Minnesota," I interjected. Aaron spouted, "Actually she reigns from Ohio."

"You mean: She HAILS from Ohio," I corrected. Raising his wiggling fingers in a down-pouring-weather motion, Aaron scoffed, "Rains. Hails. What's the difference."

"Well, to reign," I spelled out, "R-E-I-G-N" from Ohio would mean she is a queen," I said. Aaron spat, "Which she's not!"

I continued, "To HAIL from Ohio, means she came from there."

"Which she did,"
he said.
"Whatever.

I still can't believe
she's going to sit
at school
all day and
do homework.

She's got like A's
in every class."

I grinned,
"Now we know why
She Reigns!"

Lunar Eclipse

A fuzzy image was all my digital camera could make of last night's lunar eclipse.



The boys and I ran out in the cold for a peek after my dad called at 8:30 PM alerting us to the phenomenon. About 10 PM the wood stove wouldn't fire up properly. I had to dump the ashes. What a blessing.

As I carried the ash tray out under the powerful starlit night, the moon illuminated an orange-shadowed glow as the eclipse evolved through the silhouette of the bare maple branches in our yard.

Had my old SLR camera a new battery, I'd have pulled it out of storage, used my long lens and attempted a better image. Instead, the memory is etched in my mind.

Warming Sense

"What is that scent you're wearing?" asked the postal clerk.

I cringed. My sons hated the potent orange-smelling lotion I used to keep my hands from cracking and bleeding during the harsh winter months.

"It's called Citrus Body Butter," I explained. "It's strong stuff when first applied. My husband bought it for me from his co-worker. It works great on chap hands. My kids hate the smell."

"Oh! I love it!" she said. "A while ago, I bought a whole line of Bath and Body products – including a scented candle – called Orange Spice. I took it all with us on a trip to Mexico. Now whenever my sons smell that scent, they say: It reminds me of Mexico!"

"So on this freezing cold day..." I began. And she finished, "You've brought in the warmth of Mexico!"

Who will –

take out the trash?

"Not I," said the sixth grader.

"Not I," said the first grader.

Not even a groan from the eighth grader still asleep in his bed.

"I've got to pack," said their dad on his way to California.

"Fine. I will do it," said the mother pulling on layers to venture into the frigid cold that kept the kids home from school yet an extra day!


And so she did.

She rolled
the can
out to
the lane's end
and took
in the view.



"Who will walk the dog?"

"Not I," said the first grader.
"Not I," said the eighth grader stretching awake.
"I did it yesterday," said the sixth grader.
"I've got to check my emails," said their dad preparing for his week-long trip.

"Fine. I will do it," said the mother opening Moose's kennel and setting off to stretch.




And so she did.

Moose
roamed
the
meadows.

She
tramped
along
behind...







taking
in
the
views.





As they returned inside, the phone rang. "Who will go to Grandma's?"

"I will!" said the eighth grader.
"I will!" said the sixth grader.
"I will! I will!" shouted the first grader.
"You can take them on your way to the airport," said the mother. "And I will pick them up this afternoon."
"Fine! I will do that!" said their dad kissing their mother good-bye. "See you next week."

And so they did – each enjoying his/her own view.

Snip. Snap. Snout. This tale is told out – Norwegian style!