Holy animals. Holy chapters. Holy God. A Note From Jan.

Wonder if they saw yesterday’s paper with its fall flyer hawking FALL crafts and GIVE THANKS plaques from A.C.Moore Arts and Crafts. Whatever, the raccoon mom who showed up last Thanksgiving eve to snatch a turkey turned up with four curious little ones to scout out the place. She brought her entire mischievous family on the last evening of July.

Chad, Kate and I would’ve missed the show if my neighbor, Beth, hadn’t called to clue us in on what was happening on our back deck, while Kate and I read books inside and Chad worked in the garage. Four young raccoons cavorted in my flower boxes and toyed with the life-size but fake goose that Kate had turned on its side on the serving cart out on the deck. The raccoons swatted at it, trying to get it to play, move or do something interesting besides “nap.”

Some days I feel like the goose, napping away; other times, the raccoon, swatting away to rouse the napper inside me. Life. Fascinating, fun, mischievous life. Too easily missed.

Yesterday began with feelings of stuck-i-ness. Feet stuck to the floor. Brain stuck on loss. Heart stuck on sob.

Work needed doing. Paperwork, again. I hate it. It was Jud’s gift to handle it, or at least Jud’s discipline to settle down to it. So I prayed and stuck this quote by Eleanor Roosevelt in front of me, ”You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

And I stuck at it for several hours. Takes me longer since I’m easily distracted by the movement of grass, leaves, even lichen (!) on the ledge outside the deck. Doesn’t take much.

When I finished, I sat and sobbed tears of relief and a sense that God and Jud showed up to help me “do the thing I thought I could not do.”

Later in the afternoon, Chad and I attended the Vacation Bible School finale at the Congregational church in Magnolia.  Kate spent the better part of her week there. During the program, the children told and sang the story of Ruth, one of my favorite stories in the Bible. Paul Van Ness wrote the script and music. Beautiful and meaningful sung and spoken biblical truth. Jud would’ve loved watching Kate, his little Poco, gathering grain from the church aisle (posing as a barley field), swaying and clapping as she sang with too much rhythm and pleasure to have much, if any, Baptist left in her ecclesiastical DNA. 

Coming to a VBS program reminded me of VBS years ago in Owosso, Michigan, when Chad was Kate’s age, 4.  Later that summer, we moved to New England, where we’ve stayed since 1976.  Chad, more raccoon than napping goose, stood on the front row between two adorable little girls.  One of them was Katie Wolgemuth. Don’t recall who the other one was. One of the two girls could not carry a tune.  After awhile, Chad covered his ears and stopped any attempt at singing, narrowing the audience’s choice down to one of the loud but off-key angels on either side of him. 

During yesterday’s program,  I WHISPERED the reminder to Chad and he grinned, then reminded me that I was beginning to WHISPER like Granddad Carlberg. 

Well, another month just showed up.  August. A year ago this month, our tale took a twist Jud and I had prayed wouldn’t happen for several years. Jud then made tough treatment choices to extend his remaining time with us from 2 weeks to more than 12. The tale did eventually turn dark, but never so dark that we couldn’t see the Light. The chapter ended but not the story. 

Apparently, 4 young raccoons wish to write another chapter, offering reminders of whimsical life. Easy to miss if I nap it away, allow myself to stay stuck or merely march in place. Better to be Ruth-like (not ruthless), and head back to the barley field, the place where duty calls and bids me do “the thing you think you cannot do.” Maybe one reason I like this story so well is that it reminds me of how my one and only Boaz showed up in my life. Perhaps, one day when I least expect or deserve it, God will show up again in my barley field, this place of nearest duty, with a harvest of which I now have no clue or claim.  Not another Boaz! Jud was my one such love. But a harvest of an altogether different and unlooked for sort. Simply for Love. for me. And you in your barley field. Even 4 small raccoons.

Holy animals. Holy barley field. Holy chapters. Holy God!