friends
Memorable Memorial Day
"Oh, this will be a memorable Memorial Day!" became the common refrain in the house as M, T, and C visited.
L is endlessly excited every time they come -- "When will they get here?! When?!" -- and often overwhelmingly depressed when they leave. They call each other cousins (Why not sisters? I know not.) and have a grand adventure every time they get together.
Their visit this time was short but packed. Sunday evening we hosted a pizza and movie party with Nana and Papa. M was practically tripping over herself with excitement, and the chattering in L's room carried on into the late night. Yet still this morning, they were ready early as couldn't be expected for more fun. For another adventure. L and I introduced them to the various "hiding places" we've found along the drainage "creek" that runs behind our house, but as often happens, E was the real center of attention.
The afternoon, the girls, practically falling on themselves with excitement, talked us into a visit to Nana's and Papa's community's pool.
"The water will be cold." everyone warned. "It's been in the fifties and sixties at night."
Still, a bit of chilly water is nothing compared to the excitement of the first swim of the season. The adults sat out; the girls jumped in. Perhaps that's something of a harbinger of things to come as they grow older and we beside them? A growing reluctance to take risks in direct proportion to their willingness?
After M, T, and C left, we spent some more time outside, letting the Boy lead the way. The discovery of a great stick was the highlight for him; the discovery of virtually-flightless baby birds out of the nest was the worry for us. I managed to deposit one of the chicks in the nest in the turn of our gutter's downspout, but the other hopped merrily away, into the street, its mother squawking nearby, trying to coax baby out of the road. In the meantime, E was heading, full steam, toward the embankment leading to the front ditch. K darted to him just as he'd turned around and prepared himself to sit up -- which would have lasted only as long as it took for him to lose his balance and go tumbling down the embankment. She led him back up the hill to the accompaniment of the mother bird, still fussing at her own baby.
Two moms, doing their jobs.
Mirroring Life
Three girls in the Girl’s room. It’s Memorial Day, so they have the day off. As such, they do the logical: they play school.
Sunday Afternoon
First
F must have heard it a dozen times today. "You won't remember your baptism," all the "aunts" and "uncles" would have begun, "but you'll always remember your first communion."
The rainy weather will also stick in your memories -- the huddling under umbrellas as you make your way from the parish center to the church, some more others less worried about getting soaked. With so much white on parade, there must have been worries about soiling the all-white outfits so many wore.
But everyone made it inside relatively safely, with F standing toward the rear of his line stiff as a soldier.
"You won't remember your baptism," he would soon hear, but those are words from people baptized in Poland in infancy, like the vast majority of Poles. "You won't remember your baptism" is much like saying "you won't remember your birth," but it's not always quite the case.
Some of us have such a memory. The same priest who baptized me two years ago gave the homily today, the same kind of warm, welcoming homily he always gives. Our dear Father Theo from Columbia, a man from whom his love of God almost glows.
"Welcome, my brothers and sisters, to this holy place," he begins every Mass, and though he says it consistently, it always sounds fresh and inviting.
But today wasn't about the homily, or the hymns, or the responsorial psalm. Today, it was about a group of kids taking their first communion -- as big an event in most Catholic families as a wedding, I'd wager.
Indeed, in a Polish family, the similarities are striking. Both are highly social events, always including a large party afterward with food and drink, conversation into the evening.
#28 — Chance and Good
Beauty is the harmony of chance and the good.
The element of chance in our lives would probably overwhelm us if we knew its extent. A decision not to go with a newly-founded school's students on a field trip to the Baltic might lead to a chance invitation to a bar where one meets a new friend. A chance meeting of one's student with the friend's neighbor might get you both invited to an eventual wedding, where one suddenly discovers that the friend is really someone more wonderful than one imagined.
And from that string of chance -- or is it more? -- comes good. And so beauty.
A chance walk on an uncommonly warm February day might lead to a meeting that leads to a dear friend.
Contrasts
One day, a day of brilliant sun and warmth. A day of walking and running on boardwalks and paved paths throughout Conestee Park.
A day of friends giggling laughing freely.
A day of a little boy standing a little taller.
A day of friends.
Another day, a day of rainy departures.
I think we all agree: the first day was better.
Flying and Dancing
They’re not sisters, but they often act like they are, and occasionally they look like it, as well.
Of the three of them, L and T are certainly the most similar. Full of energy, always on the move, ever chattering, constantly seeking some kind of little bit of excitement.
L is a little weary to try something new until she sees someone else do it — like leaping from someone’s shoulders as they explode (as much as my tired legs can make them explode)Â from the water. She leaps prematurely at first.
Then, after watching T do it a few more times, she gets the hang of it. Timing the jump is critical, and she flies into the air so high that I suddenly worry that perhaps it’s too high. Sure enough, it’s a touch too high once, and she lands on her belly — her first belly flop, and she comes up howling.
Soon enough, though, it’s all giggles and laughs again.
And as suddenly as it started, it stops, as a heavy, sudden shower chases from the pool. But why? There’s no thunder, no threat. The youngest girls, realizing this, understand the implication.
“We can play in the rain!”
Why not? They’ll learn to see the rain as inconvenient soon enough.
Drop In
Old friends dropped by on their way home from the beach.
A trio of giggles and silliness ensued.
And as the two girls ended up spending the night,
story for all four girls in the house.
I wonder when they'll actually get to sleep...
Sources of Joy
Having someone play with you and your dolls is a great source of joy. “Pretend she’s…” begins most every sentence — and this time, the playmate will actually play along with the request.
Being surrounded by dogs thrilled to be with you and eager to show you is an endless source of joy. It lasts as long as the dogs’ energy, hence it is truly seems infinite.
Having a good stretch after filling your belly is joy that at its very center is complete contentment.
For good friends, it’s something a simple as sharing food — a freshly-picked cherry tomato or a plate of pierogi.
Untameable tomato plants that tower above you are a promise of present and future joy.
And the greatest source of joy is seeing all those you love happy.