Stronger than we seem... by Liz Flaherty

Sometimes awful things happen. They happen to good people, to bad people, to people we've never met, and to people we love. When these things riddle the lives of others, we are sorry for them. We pray for happy endings, for release from pain, for peace. Oh, yes, please, peace. 

And sometimes awful things are said, like He got what he deserved. Or My kid (husband, wife, sister, brother) would never do anything like that. Or I wouldn't have put up with that. I'd have... Or I always knew that would happen.

Why are those things awful? Because they don't help anybody, that's why.

I mean that, what I just said there. However, it would probably be more convincing if I'd never been guilty of saying those things. If I'd never been smug about anything. 

My prayers, while no more heartfelt, might be kinder if I were never righteous when I offered them. I wonder how many times I've said I would pray for someone or their situation and then forgotten to do it. Or how many times I've pontificated on the importance of forgiveness but locked a grudge up so tightly that it can't possibly break free. 

But...

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages..."

Borrowed with thanks from https://www.facebook.com/perucircus/photos/

The circus starts today. Well, performances and the festival do. The months of preparation and labor started long before this. The fair was a few weeks ago, and other county fairs are sprinkling the state every week. These are things that involve kids--hundreds of them--and adults who help and encourage them. 

I have felt awfulness this week, but on Broadway in Peru, in fairgrounds exhibit halls, hope grows with all the beauty of community. Round bales and deer create still life tableaus in fields. Ice cream socials offer fellowship and friendship. There is music and art and pleasure to be heard and seen and felt.

So maybe prayers are answered--we just don't know how to listen or how to understand what the solutions are. I'm grateful for those answers among the awfulness. They make us strong, make us laugh, make us empathize and sympathize instead of saying awful things.  

Have a great week. Find hope in the detritus. Be nice to somebody. May all your days be circus days. 

Painting by Sarah Luginbill

Ice Cream Social

I don't have a post today because I will be here at Ebenezer helping to prepare for and serve the ice cream social. Except for last year, it is an annual event. We are at the corner of Meridian Road and 1100 North. The ice cream, sandwiches, pie, and fellowship are all excellent! Free-will donation. Bake sale on the premises. 

"Dreamin' in red white and blue..." by Liz Flaherty

Tomorrow is July 4, the day our country traditionally celebrates its independence from tyranny, a freedom cemented by the Declaration of Independence. Arguably the most famous quotation from that document is, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

We assumed, back in the last century when we learned about it, that "all men" actually meant "all humankind." We assumed that the people who owned slaves and took life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness from Native Americans weren't really tyrants, were they? We assumed that the religious freedom they fled England to attain meant freedom for everyone's religion, not just certain ones. We assumed Life and Liberty were for everyone, not just people who looked and sounded like us. We assumed no one would pursue their Happiness at the expense of others. 

There is much to be learned about assuming, isn't there?

I remember--here we go with the memories again--when fireworks were fun and as far as I knew, no one got mad about people setting them off. Of course, I also remember when no one set them off until July 1st or so. 

I remember having confidence that everyone's vote counted the same and that no one would ever try to stop anyone else from voting. That no one would ever cheat in elections even if they could. That was what some of those Amendments were about, right, protecting that vote? Not just your vote or the guy's who lives on a certain side of town, but mine, too, and my neighbor's and the one of the person who lives over there that no one really likes. 

I remember the lyrics of the song "Only in America," both the one by Jay and the Americans and the one by Brooks and Dunn, that said we were all equal. We could all be anything. Do anything. 

I love the flag. I will always stand for the national anthem. I will always recite the Pledge of Allegiance, complete with "under God." I'm pretty traditional in that way. I don't particularly like it when others are not, but it's not my business. My family has several veterans--none of whom have served so that all Americans would march to the same drum; they've served so all Americans could choose their own drums.

We see a lot of "if you hate this country, you should leave" these days, just as we saw it back in the Vietnam era. Why is it that disagreeing with the status quo is considered synonymous with hate? Was this what was intended that day they all signed that document? 

Anyway, Happy 4th of July. I hope you enjoy the day and the year and I hope you love the country it celebrates. You don't have to love it the same way I do--that's what the independence means, I think.

Have a great week. Be nice to somebody. 

 

Book Signing...

Posting a few days early this week to invite you to join me at a book-signing on Saturday, June 26. You don't have to buy a book, but stop in and shop and have some coffee and conversation anyway! Hope to see you there!

From Legacy Outfitters and Black Dog Coffee at 116 S 6th St, Logansport, IN.

"We're so exited about our upcoming Book Signing and talk by author Liz Flaherty next Saturday, June 26th from 11am to 2pm. Liz is one of our favorite customers and her 'Window on the Sink' columns in the Peru Tribune are now in book form.

Romance readers know her as the author of over 20 novels published by Harlequin, Kensington, Carina Press, and The Wild Rose Press. Her work has also been in The Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal, and the Christian Science Monitor. But it's her Window on the Sink essays she's most happiest writing. Each essay is a personal, thoughtful slice of life, recalling moments spent in the small town of Macy where she and her husband, musician, Duane, live and raised their kids. As one reviewer says, 'Family comes alive in this book and you'll laugh and cry and feel good all over.' Copies of her book are available now and at the signing."

***

Thanks to everyone who came. I was so glad to meet no-longer-strangers and to see friends whose presence light my days. 

Remember When by Liz Flaherty

I'm writing this at a glass-topped table that seats 10 easily and more if TV watchers drag up chairs to join the conversation. The kitchen has room for several to work at once, a curiously small refrigerator, and a dishwasher we keep running constantly. There are anywhere between 10 and 14 of us here on the beach in North Carolina. 

Other than the husbands and wives among us, and the two who are in middle school and high school who still live at home, none of us would willingly live together. The personalities and opinions that surround this table and fill the house-crossing deck in the back are varied and...varied. They don't always mesh. Sometimes we clamp our mouths shout. Sometimes we should but don't.

But our six kids, half by birth and half by law and all by heart, in all their differences, love each other's children. On this trip, Uncle Chris has been 11-year-old Eamon's favorite plaything and Skyler and Fionn have done their best to shock Aunt Tahne. All "us girls" have personalized wineglasses and ankle bracelets that will serve as remember whens for as long as we have them. 

The kids love us and worry about us as we age. Whenever any two of them are gathered in quiet conversation, we ask if they are discussing putting us in "the home." Usually they assure me I'm okay, but Dad may have something to worry about. Or vice versa. 

The grandkids are fascinating and funny. They know so many different things and their personalities and interests are as varied and entertaining as their parents'. 

Like most other families, we spend a lot of time in front of screens. We all have phones, several of us work from wherever our laptops are, and there are televisions and games systems everywhere. Fourteen of us wear approximately 55 pairs of shoes, 33 hats, and 29 pairs of sunglasses (none of which can be found when needed.) Between us, we have at least 20 bottles of sunscreen but can never find the one we want. We have beach towels that are used for nothing more heroic than collecting sand but are very pretty and bright nonetheless.

We've said and done things that are inherent to us. One son slept "44 hours straight" according to his brother. In one day! (Not sure who said that...) Decades after our daughter declared the "tiny belt" on her car needed replacing, it is still the family go-to description of any automotive problem up to and including transmission replacement and blown engines. When my granddaughter and I walked the beach in swimsuits of matching colors, I mourned that no one thought we were sisters. They are not brilliant things, these things we still laugh at, but they are still ones we cherish. 

It is special this week coming up on Father's Day to realize that my favorite four fathers are here in one place. They are being reminded of their failures, whether real or imagined, and their successes are right here for us all to see. 

We are diverse in our religion, music, food and beverage choices, and--somewhat--in our politics, but share values complete with lines that cannot be crossed. Except that we cross them all the time. Voices are raised, much eyerolling goes on, and sometimes quiet falls between parties. That kind of quiet is heartbreaking at the age I am, because I know no matter how much time you have to spend with your family, it's never, ever enough. 

I'm writing this on Thursday, staying inside because no matter how much of those 20 bottles of sunscreen I used, it wasn't enough. We'll head back in a few days, to several parts of the country, using various modes of travel. We'll all be glad to be home, back to routine, to our own beds. We'll all have different remember whens, but no matter how individualized they are, every one of us will have them with us always, in one of those pockets in our hearts that we can open when we need to. 

Have a great week. Be nice to somebody.

What's Going On? by Liz Flaherty

I am on vacation this week, and it looks as if I might be missing a lot of things going on in Miami County!

#ColePorterFestival is this week. Go here for a schedule of events. http://www.coleporterfestival.org/schedule/

It's #SecondSaturday. A lot will be going on, including music at Gallery 15. 

It's time for Gilead Garage Sales. Pick up your map early!

Farmer's Market--with great vendors and more music!

Feel free to add more activities in the comments. Have a great week. Be nice to somebody.

Glory Days by Liz Flaherty

In church a few Sundays ago, Pastor Scott Mann said something that I want to remember. He said, "I can't believe in the salvation of anyone who doesn't long for the salvation of his neighbor. Be the church." 

He also reminded us later in the service that "the glory days are in the future," which--for me--meant the past is behind us. (As someone who is notoriously reluctant to let things go, this had a really big couple of meanings...)

Also on that bright and beautiful Sunday morning, a cluster of us arrived at the church at once, greeting each other and walking up its steps together. I was reminded of when I was a kid, walking into a different church with mostly different people, but with the same feeling. When I tried to explain it, Chris McGuire said, "Oh, happy day." And yes, that was it. 

I wrote those things because I want to remember what gifts they were. Memory gets sketchy with age. It's selective and faulty, but no less precious for all that. 

Change and loss become such parts of every day that we expect them. Even in expectation, we are blindsided by them. Loss still hurts and change is still bewildering. We learn to not miss chances and to not say "one of these days, I'll..." Not that we always act on what we've learned, but we know. We know.

We also know that into those changes and losses come the letting go part. Some friendships end--even old ones. Some lifetime scars are bumpier and harder to live with and open and bleed no matter how hard we try to let things go. 

We need to forgive ourselves. 

There are no words to describe how much I dislike dreary days or relentless wind. Both of those elemental events cause me to hunker down and pout, but into those gloomiest of days, the orioles, goldfinches, blue jays, and woodpeckers have flown in all their brilliant glory. Walking the Nickel Plate has become anticipatory because the colors and scents are different every day. More change. More loss.

This week has been a cacophony of change and loss and the delight of grandkids in the house. At the end of it, the sun is still shining, the birds are still singing and hanging upside down from the suet feeders--how do they do that?--and we still have the opportunity to "be the church" and to let things go when the keeping of them doesn't help anyone.

I realize the Window doesn't all come together this week. There's nothing new in that, I guess, although I wish I were a little better at wrapping things up neatly. But most things aren't like that, are they? Not that we can't wrap them up and be happy with them, but it's not usually all that neat. I think that idea's one of the things I'll try to let go.

Have a great week. Forgive yourself. Be nice to somebody.