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On this day, in 1979, a precious little girl, with bouncing curls and shining eyes became our very own for ever and ever. She had been a part of our lives for two weeks near two years, but on this day we made it legal! Happy Adoption Day, Christina Yutzy Bontrager! This really is a “Glad we gotcha’ Day!” Daddy and I will always be grateful for THE GIFT.

We have missed a few “Grandma nights” this last while.  My Sweet Mama has had some work done on her bay window and when the house is all “up in a heaval” it just doesn’t work so well for her to have company.  But last week, her grandson, Chip and his fine wife, Susan and their two delightful little ones, Hannah and Clint III were able to come for the weekend and that caused great stirrings about to finish some of the work and have a “Grandma Night” with as many of us as could make it.  It was a great turnout, but I didn’t get very many pictures.  Trust me when I say that the food was wonderful!  A pot of cream of crab soup, hot, crusty rolls, fruits, little smokies, pizza dips and pizza-ish stuff in a pan, chips and salsa, Chips and a wonderful guacamole kind of dip, Cherry delight, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a delectable Butterfinger dessert and sweet tea and lemonade and kettle corn and I’m sure I missed some stuff!  (Did I make anybody hungry yet???)  It was so nice to be together, but we missed the ones that couldn’t be there . . . We were missing Nel and Rose, Alma and Jerrel, Clint and Frieda and Bert in our generation, and quite a few from the others.  But the families were well represented, and we had a great time.

Two Fine Nephews, Josh and Joe, during grace before we ate:

(Yepper, I sneaked a shot during prayer!)

And then there were the children:

James:

Hannah:

Then Charis and Clinty

And our three musketeers!

Three little girlies.
The three of them were watching a bedtime story just before we went our separate ways.
Almost the same size, and within a year of age.
Charis, on the left is our beloved only grandbaby.  She will be three this month.
Dorie, in the middle, is Mark and Polly’s granddaughter,
one among ten very beloved grandchildren.  She turned three in August. 
And the one on the right is Hannah, Clinton and Frieda’s granddaughter,
also very beloved among four equally precious grandchildren.  She will be three in June.

I kid you not. 
When these three get together, there is
Entertainment!

What fun!

What a blessing to be together at Mama’s house last night. 

It’s been a long, hard day.

Probably tangling with a case manager last night set things off.  I still think I was/am right.  But that is neither here nor there.  She has power.  And what is best for Cecilia and Nettie is that I get along with my team.  (Even when a case manager forgets that she is to be their advocate no matter what.  Even when a case manager is being ridiculous.  Honestly!  Aren’t the “rules” in place so that our individuals get the best care possible?)  Anyhow.  It wasn’t pretty.

In the middle of things when I found myself near tears, I decided to try to settle things down a little and give her a chance to (maybe) back off a bit.

“I think I am especially irritable today,” I said.  “Cecilia and Nettie have both been sick, and then I was so sick over the weekend.  Things look extra big to me right now.  But I feel that this is so unreasonable.”

(Some of you out there are wondering what could get me so wrought up — and it’s a very long story –but when Cecilia, who is autistic, blind and non-verbal gets a bill in the mail that the state won’t pay, the case manager wanted me to agree that I would go and get the cash from Ceclia’s bank account and take that specific cash to the place of business or go out and get a money order and mail the money order instead of paying it with my personal check, and documenting that I had taken the funds out of the personal spending money.  “We would never expect you to make a special trip,” she said, so condescendingly,  “Just do it sometime when you are already out.”  If I refused to do that, then she wanted me to agree that I would fill out a special form and explain to Cecilia what I was doing (!) and then have Cecilia sign (!) that she agreed for it to be done my way.  “Document the steps you took to do it that way,”  she insisted.  “That way when someone is auditing it, they will understand what you have done.”  I could not believe her audacity. I sent a copy of the bill and the check and a receipt along with the itemization. That really sounds like documentation to me!   I felt like I was part of some weird spoof on government policies.  The thing is, SHE is usually the only one who audits the record.

This discussion was going nowhere fast when. all of the sudden, in her sweet saccharin voice, she came towards me with her arms all wide outstretched. “Oh, Mary Ann.  Give me a hug.  I can see.  You are a WORRIER.  You are just so worried that something is going to go wrong and–” the rest of her sentence was lost on me.

I acknowledge that I CAN worry.  I know how to do it.  I come from a long line of accomplished worriers.  But worry isn’t my besetting sin as a rule, I don’t think.  It especially wasn’t at that moment.  I was angry.  I was livid, in fact.  And, cotton pickin’ it, now I was crying.  This combination only results in blubbering.  So I tried to stop crying, tried to think straight, tried to organize my head, tried to be the one who was rational.  And I decided that I would not back down.  I gave her the perfunctory hug, went back to the fray, and felt like I was finally heard.  I picked my words, decided what I could live with, and we parted with a fairly decent understanding.

But I was prickly inside all day.  Although there were some special blessings today that truly helped me through, I still found myself on the verge of tears all afternoon.  Daniel took me this afternoon to pick up our van that had been in the shop, and on the way home, on impulse, I decided to stop in at the local coffee shop to see if there was any JamaicanMeCrazy coffee beans that they are famous for.  I came into the homey atmosphere and waited while Chuck took care of the customer ahead of me.  The smells and the warmth swirled around me and suddenly I felt tireder than I had in a long time.  Chuck finished up and then greeted me with his usual friendliness.

“Hi, Mary Ann.  How ARE you today?”  I could feel his kind eyes trying to look into mine.  I studied the menu over the counter intently.

“Oh.  I’m – – Fine, I guess.” What was going on here?  Why was I feeling prickles behind my eyelids?

“That doesn’t sound convincing,” he said quietly.  “The kids okay?  Rachel doing alright?  Everyone doing fine?

That distracted me a bit, and I told him that everyone was fine, I had just talked to Rachel, Deborah was in Israel, and the kids were coming home for Easter.  Did he have any JMC Coffee?

He said they didn’t– they would get it in next week, and trying mightily to be cheerful, I ordered a bag for next week and got a caramel steamer to go, paid my bill, dropped in a tip and stepped back to the back counter to fix it just the way I like it.  Chuck went on to the next customer, and I stood at the tall counter, stirring my steamer and wondering what in the world was wrong with me.  That’s when the tears started in earnest.  I kept my back to Chuck and the rest of the shop, gathered up my steamer and quietly exited.  Tears were dropping fast, on the front of my shirt, and I was having trouble seeing.  I found my car and started home.

“Oh, Lord, you’re beautiful,” I began in the quiet car.  “Your face is all I see.  For when your eyes are on this child, your grace abounds to me.”  I sang while the tears streamed down, and gradually the peace began to settle in.  A sacrifice of praise helps me every time.  If only I wouldn’t forget so soon.

I got home, and it wasn’t long until Nettie came in from center and then Cecilia  I got Cecilia settled into her chair and then my sweet Mama called.  She asked about my day and I told her how I had been irritable and weepy all day.  When I told her that I suspected that it had something to do with the exchange I had with my case manager the night before, I realized that she hadn’t heard the story.  So I proceeded to tell her.

That was a bad idea, probably.  Not because she couldn’t know it, but I love to tell a story, and the truth is, I get really caught up in what happened, who said what, she said, I said, etc. and it doesn’t take too much for the emotions to come right back with rather alarming intensity.  So, yes, I was kinda’ mad all over again.

When Cecilia comes home from center, she likes a certain routine.  You take off her coat, she sits in her chair, you take off her shoes, you put her feet up and tilt the recliner back and put some music on her Bose system.  I had done all this except the music part.  Somehow I forgot to do that.  And another thing we know is that Cecilia hates conflict. And she has acute hearing.  So I was going on and on to Mama about my conversation with the case manager, and Cecilia began to be a little agitated.  Soon there were some irritating noises from her corner, but my attention was on cleaning up my kitchen while I talked to Mama.

Suddenly, there was this huge noise from Cecilia’s corner, loud, harsh and drawn out.  The noise she makes when she is really, really upset about something and is trying to throw up.  Something inside of me snapped.  Without missing a beat in my conversation with Mama, I turned towards her corner and said, “CECILIA!!!  YOU STOP THAT!!! RIGHT NOW!!!”

I said it loud and I said it mean.  Cecilia was immediately quiet.  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I was sorry.  I honestly can say that I don’t think I have ever spoken quite that way to her before. I was so ashamed of myself (and I should have been).  I knew I was going to have to apologize to her.  She really didn’t deserve to be spoken to in such a manner.

I finished the call, talked a little bit to Nettie, then decided to get it over with.  I walked over to her chair and got my face down on level with her face.  “Cecilia –“

She immediately held up her hand.  She has a bad habit of doing that and then wrenching the hand given to her, sometimes gouging it with her fingernails, and has been known to draw blood.  I wondered what I was in for, but I gave her my hand.

My heart gave a lurch.  She caressed my hand, gently, held it in her own as quietly as I would a baby’s and lifted her sightless face towards me.

“Cecilia– I’m so sorry for yelling at you so unkindly.  That was very wrong of me.  I’m so sorry.  Can you forgive me?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair then but allowed me to put my arm around her shoulders for a little hug before she shrugged me off.

But that quiet hand!  I am still in a state of disbelief.  And when I put her to bed tonight with her customary song and bedtime rituals, I whispered once again in her ear how sorry I was, and she pushed her face up against my words and opened those sightless eyes without a trace of frown or displeasure.

I’ve been forgiven, and His Grace abounds to me.

Certain Man and His Wife have been blessed with lots of little kids to love . . .

But this one is still our favorite!

Two girlies, pleased as punch.
Loving hands sewed them each a dress.
No reason.  Just promises made and kept.
Thank you, gokum.

I pray that the blessing you were to them
(and to me)
Will come right back
In the most unexpected ways
But at the “most rightest” time.
to bless you even more!

Somewhere in the stories of California and the counting of gifts, and just LIVING, some days have come and gone that are just so completely gone that they catch at my heart and make the tears prickle at the back of my eyelids.  I feel like they were somehow stolen from me.  Days with Youngest Daughter, busy days when our Grandbaby came and went without the kind of celebration I like to make when she is here, hours with my Sweet Mama that seem to be flitting through my helpless hands at a heart stopping rate.  She looks so frail to me these days.

Sometimes I think that, living with a Hospice nurse, we hear so much of the heartache in this old world.  And tell me again that the age of technology is so wonderful.  I guess it is.  It broadens our scope of friends, yes.  However, in that broadening, there are stories that are so poignant that I almost have to close my eyes against the feeling that wells up inside.  And then, given the magnitude of that scope, I cannot begin to keep up with all of them the way I would like to.  But oh!  How very much they have enriched my life.

Tonight I read over at @GrannyHummingbird . . . Jeff is between third base, and home plate, on his “way home”.  My heart ached for her, for her family and for those who are keeping watch.  That one statement gripped my heart, and I walked out into the kitchen and repeated it our Hospice nurse girlie, Deborah, on her way to the home of a patient who is dying.  When she got in around 11pm, She told me that she used the analogy with the family tonight.  “It is so appropriate, Mama,” she said.  “I am grateful that you told me.  I love it.”

Home.  Heaven.  It has been so much on my mind.  People I love already there.  People I love almost there.  People I love on their way to somewhere, and I. am. not. sure. where.  Yes, I do believe that not every person is on their way to Heaven.

“Our Kids” were here tonight.  The three older ones as well as a little brother, just turned two, who has decided that going to Mr. Daniel’s and Ms. Mary Ann’s house is just about the greatest thing there is in his little life.  I had hesitated letting him come, fearing that the older ones would explode into more showing off and unmanageable behaviors, and the LORD KNOWS we have enough of that.  But I finally decided that we could try it, and nothing could have prepared me for how things have gone.  This little brother is the light of their lives.  They tenderly watch over him, tell him the rules and interpret for his (as yet) unintelligible language. 

Daniel and I were trying to organize last minute things tonight before supper when I heard,  “No, Little Seneca, you CAN’T eat yet.  We have to pray.  You’ve gotta’ hold hands to pray.  NO!  You gotta’ hold hands.  That’s how we do it!”  That personal pronoun grabbed my heart!  YES!  Lord Jesus!  YES!

After Mya’s homework was finished, and L.J. and Muffie had read their books to me, I looked at the kitchen in all its disarray, hauled Little Seneca out of the cupboards one more time, saw that it was nine o’clock, and decided that it was time to take them home.  They had ridden bikes, had a golf cart ride, peeked in at the ailing calf and seemingly hadn’t wasted a minute.  But they had been manageable, responsive and cheerful.  There had been almost no whining.  Mya sat in the front seat, homework, reading book, and a fresh loaf of bread tucked up on the dash of the car.   Little Seneca was in his car seat, almost too sleepy to be civil, and Muffie and L.J., both balancing paper plates of three cupcakes, sat in the remaining spaces.  I usually try to tell them stories on the way home about my own life — either when I was a little girl, or from Daniel’s and my days of having children.  Tonight the stories got them to talking about Heaven and what it was like.

Telling children about Heaven when there are so many preconceived ideas can be a bit interesting — but the thing is, they BELIEVE!  They have this innate sense that there is a Heaven and that it will be wonderful, but so little actual, factual knowledge.  What a blessing to have words from God’s Word to share with their open ears and hearts.

“You know, kids,” I said to them, “there are a lot of ideas about what Heaven will be like.  Lots of people say lots of things.  The truth is, we don’t actually know what it will look like, but if you would take your life here, and get rid of all the things you hate most, that is a little bit of what Heaven will be like.  No more death, no more tears, no more pain, no more night, no more parting, no more hunger, no more thirst.  The Bible says that all those things will pass away.  I think Heaven will be the best of the good things here but so much more.”

“Ms. Mary Ann, will we have to take baths?”

“Well, there’s going to be water there, because the Bible talks about the River of Life.  You won’t get dirty in any bad sort of way, but I’m sure you can get into the water if you want to.”

“Won’t we be walking around in some sort of white dresses?

“The Bible says that we will be clothed in garments of light, and yes, it does say something about white robes.  There are people who say, ‘I don’t want to go to to heaven.  It sounds boring.  Walking around playing harps and wearing robes.’ The one thing I know is that it won’t be boring.  And also, whatever we will have to wear, it will not be something that gets in our way.  It will be wonderful!”

“H-m-m-m-m-m-m.”

And that led to more talk about how we get there, with the opportunity again to share the story of Jesus as the Way, the Truth, and the Light.  How “No one comes to the Father except through Jesus” and how there will always be people who want to make it “easier” or will preach a different Gospel.

And that gave me cause to tell them once again, “Kids, nothing matters more to me than this:  That you come safely home to Heaven.  Someday, when I walk on those streets, if you are there, it will be make me so incredibly happy.  That is my reason for all of this, so that you kids will know the way to Heaven.”

They ride silently, save for a few more pertinent questions, and once again, my heart beats HOPE. They aren’t perfect.  There is so much I would like to see different.  But they are still children.  Children with soft hearts and a God awareness that urges me to pray.  

“God forbid that I should sin in ceasing to pray (for them) . . .” I Samuel 12:23

Come, Lord Jesus

sr. Miriam Therese Winter, SCMM

The clouds shall send a Savior like soft falling rain,
Yet mighty in his power, to free us from our chains.
His shield will be compassion, his weapon liberty.
Come, Lord Jesus, the light is dying,
the night keeps crying: come, Lord Jesus

Even so, Lord Jesus, COME!

Chapter six

On Saturday Morning, we set out.  Daniel, Lena and I.  We were so excited about this African Safari, and we were NOT disappointed.

The African Safari in San Diego is a broad expanse of land that is an attempt to be as close to the natural habitat as possible.  I have trouble envisioning the hills of southern California to be like the plains of Africa — but Hey!  What do I know?  Maybe this is exactly what Africa looks like!  

So many things to see — even these ugly birds!  But on our tram ride through the park, there was the most beautiful of God’s creations right in front of us.  This precious little guy, full of life and so entertaining to watch.  No one in his family objected to me taking his picture, and I still like people better than I do all of the animals.  🙂

There was a bird show, and then lots of birds and water fowl that we could follow:

The park was also decorated with beautiful plant life.  This doesn’t do justice, but it shows a little bit of what we encountered all through the park.

We had chosen to eat a late breakfast.  Lena planned to take us to her favorite restaurant of all that evening, and had reserved a table on the pier.  We decided to again forgo any meal in the park — and it was probably sound financial planning to avoid that racketeering industry.  We did each get a drink, and sat and watched the families come through the snack bar.  One family of four had chips, a drink and a hotdog or some other measly lunch each, and I think Daniel told me that it was $39.00   We decided that we would just wait for supper.

Before we left, we watched the Cheetah Run.  I would have pictures of that, but it was impossible to get ringside observation posts without paying ten dollars apiece, and when they said the entire run would take about six seconds, we decided that none of us needed to see it close up that badly!  And from where we could see, things went just fast enough that I didn’t get any decent pictures.  It was still great fun, and we would do it again!

I feel like I’ve “complained” pretty much about how much things cost in California.  Daniel and I have been blessed, and we didn’t want to miss out on things on our trip by being “tight-wads” but we also were completely unprepared for how much everything cost there.  The tickets to the Safari were expensive — $42.00 each, but then almost everything you wanted to do inside the park that was any fun at all was “extra.”  We had decided that we were not going for the extras. ($42.00 each for these Delawareans was steep enough) but we kept seeing signs for this and that, and did a little private figuring.  We got out “unscathed” but realized that if a couple came in there, wanting to do all the extras, it would be very easy for someone to spend a $1,000.00 in one day at the African Safari.  I wish things like this could be provided at a reduced rate especially to families who struggle to make ends meet and who would enjoy times like this together.   I suppose they have things like scholarships, and I know they give reduced yearly passes, but even then, it is steep.  

                                                            
After the Safari:

Outside on the beach . . 
It had been a really nice day, weather wise, but by evening, things were changing and a weather system was moving it.
It felt like it was freezing and it kept raining off and on
But it was gorgeous!  The waves were spectacular, crashing white heads
that looked magnificent and sounded phenomenal.

But we really were too cold.  So we asked our long suffering waiter if we could be moved inside to an enclosed patio.  There were tall heaters, and the windows were all around.  We watched the waves and had a wonderful meal together.  Lena just plain knows where to go and what to do.  It was another of those super fabulous adventures.

1,000 Gifts
~Ann Voskamp
(and counting . . . )

1131.  Ruby Donophan  ♥
1132.  A clean house
1133.  A mason jar of Daffodils
Spring is coming!
1134.  A long conversation with my Sister-in-law, Frieda

. . . and the gifts just keep on coming from the ONE who keeps on giving!

Chapter Five:

On Friday morning, we got up and slowly got ourselves around.  We decided that we were going to get something for “brunch” at a place that could give us internet access, catch up on what was happening back at Shady Acres, then get on with our day.  The plan was to go up to Pasadena, pick up Mary Beth and Joanna (Sharp) and take them out for supper at a nice restaurant and then return them to their boarding place, and then come back to San Diego. 

Before we left Delaware, we had called Mary Beth and Joanna’s mother and asked if there was anything we could take for the girls from home.  Kathy said that there was a sweater that Mary Beth had left behind, and she also wanted to get some things together for them to eat.  She had brought the items to our house the day before we left, and Daniel had tucked them into the cracks and crannies of our suitcase that was going to be checked at the airport.  Friday morning, when we went to find all the things that we had brought, I couldn’t find the sweater.

“Did you pack a sweater?” I asked Daniel as I scrambled through the suitcase.

“I don’t remember a sweater in the things Kathy brought,” he said thoughtfully.  “I packed everything she brought, though, so if there was one with the things, I packed it.”

“I’m sure you did,” I said, a little amused, “because you even brought the one extra plastic bag that had nothing in it.”  I rustled around in the suitcase, and packed all the other stuff into a bag — popcorn, cake mixes, etc. and we were finally ready to go.  I didn’t bother to take that extra, flat, crumpled plastic Wal-mart bag that was obviously just there for packing.

We went into a nearby Starbucks and I got a great caramel steamer, and then we sat outside at a little round table on the patio.  I uploaded some pictures, and wrote an update on my Xanga site, but the wi-fi was slow and I finally gave up with a short update and pictures of the area that Lena lives in.  (This would be my February 11th update.)

There was a Mexican restaurant that shared the patio with Starbucks, and after a little discussion, we decided that we would grab an early lunch there.  Lena wanted a milkshake from McDonalds that was just across the way, so between her milkshake and our “little” lunch, we were soon finished and on our way north.

California is a land of so much diversity and interesting plants and landscape and PEOPLE.  We saw so many things to hold our attention on our way to Pasadena.  Passing through the one town, I looked out the window, just as the light turned green and saw this:

This is a Photography studio that appears to be doing really well.
And it has our Grandbaby’s unusual name!  How sweet is that?

Lena, with her small stature, has a modified car — and it was just a whole lot easier to let her drive than to alter the seat, the extensions and mirrors, etc.  It is an understatement to say that she has somewhat of a reputation as a daring driver.  (I kid you not, our children tell stories of escapades in that little Honda Civic that cause her family to KNOW the guardian angels fly along with her as she maneuvers the streets and freeways of Southern California.)  Daniel and I were passengers on almost all the miles driven in San Diego, and we truly had NO narrow escapes.  She has an ability to get places in a hurry, and in one piece.  It was Friday, though, and the traffic was heavy, so it took us longer than we had anticipated.  We did get just a little lost, too, right at the end, but that was exceedingly minor.  Between our late start, though, and the traffic, we got to Pasadena without any time for exploring, so we decided to go straight to their school and see about heading out for supper.

We pulled onto the campus of U.S. Center for World Missions and parked our car on a side street. 

It was an unpretentious building on a quiet street, but once inside the doors, there was a bustle as well as a sense of calm.  The USCWM is housed on the campus of the old Pasadena Nazarene College, and, in addition to their own ministry, offers space to many different organizations.  Founded in 1976 by Ralph and Roberta Winters, the U.S. Center for World Missions is “a place where mission organizations work together to strategize, research and promote ideas that will help to complete the unfinished task of reaching every people group with the Gospel.  It has been described as a missions think tank or a “Missions’ Pentagon.” (Wikipedia –If you are interested, look it up!  It’s a great article, well written, unbiased, and very informative.)

We came into the front doors to the sight of tables being set up for a community potluck information meeting, and were greeted warmly.  Mary Beth and Joanna were still in class, so we occupied ourselves looking at the various displays and reading some of the information pamphlets that were in abundance.  Then Joanna bounced in and announced that they still needed to attend a mandatory Bible Study before they would be allowed to leave, so Daniel and I opted to join the class for the study.  Lena fielded a few phone calls from friends and also work (for some reason, they just cannot make it without calling her!) and watched people and even caught a few winks, I think.  When the (very shortened!) Bible study was over, we asked the gals where they would like to eat.  They both said they didn’t much care as long as it was something “substantial” for a change.

  They live and usually eat off campus, and their little basement hovel has a microwave and they pretty much exist on what they can make in the microwave.  Frozen pizzas, popcorn, and similar foods.  Both girls look like they’ve lost considerable weight since leaving Delaware last fall, but of course, that probably is a good thing in their eyes.  (They look healthy enough, they just look so skinny to me!)  Daniel and I discussed it, and we decided that we would try to find a steak house.  Their affable professor made a few recommendations, and we decided to hunt down the one that was closest one that looked promising.

We squished the five of us into Lena’s little car, and off we went.  We searched high and low for this elusive place, and finally!  We found it.  We should have known we were in over heads when there was valet parking.  Two fellows stood by the door of this dimly lit establishment, and were taking keys from patrons as they drove into the driveway.

“They better not try to take my keys, “ muttered Lena.  “It just isn’t worth it!  Once they change my seat it is so difficult to get things back to where I have them.  Unless they insist, I’m going to park myself, and if they insist otherwise, I might just leave.”  That was what we should have done at that juncture.  If only we had known.

When we pulled up to the entrance, the eager valet parking fellows were all over us.  They probably saw Lena’s handicapped permit hanging from her mirror and felt really needed, but she stopped them before they could utter a word.   “I’d like to park myself,” she said with conviction.  “Is there a spot that isn‘t too far out where I could park?” 

They peered in at the five of us, looked at her, and quickly determined that this little lady wasn’t about to relinquish her position.   “Oh, sure, sure,” they said hurriedly, “You’re welcome to park right over there!” and they pointed to a spot that was close to the side of the restaurant.  “Just pull right in there, and you should be fine.”  We did just that, and unfolded ourselves out of the car and entered the restaurant.

Oh. Dear.

It smelled wonderful.  The atmosphere was definitely fine dining.  There were crisp linen tablecloths on the small square tables, with crystal wine glasses at each place.  Fancy folded linen napkins at every place setting. Dim lights.  People in expensive dinner dress and expensive jewelry sat in intimate little groupings of two.  While the girls and I stood back, Daniel and Lena approached to the host and said, “Could we have a table for five?”

“Well,” he said, looking us up and down, “I don’t have anything like that unless you are willing to be on the patio.  We could set something up there.”  I looked at the room full of empty tables and began to get a sick feeling in my stomach.  They really didn’t want us.

“The patio is fine,” said Lena and Daniel.  “We would be comfortable there.”  And so, it was decided.  The host sent a waiter to set up the table while we waited.  And waited.  A line had formed behind us, and they began seating those people, but not before I felt like they all sort of looked at our group with disdain.  I began to feel like a Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, like I was asking for a McDonald’s Happy Meal in the White House State Dining Room, like — well, you get the picture.  Lena had come back to stand beside me while we waited.

“I’m just a little worried about this,” I said to her quietly.  “I think we are just a little bit out of our league.”

“I’m wondering, too,” she murmured.  “I wonder how expensive things are here.”

“I am sure they are pretty high,” I said, “and while I want to get the girls a good meal, we can’t afford just anything.”

“I know,” said Lena, again, “It seems a little bit pricey.”

“I think I am going to ask to see a menu,” I said, feeling brave all of a sudden.

“That’s a good idea,” encouraged Lena.  “That way we can know before we are actually seated.”

I went up to the host and said, “I’m sorry.  But could we please see a menu?  We are a little concerned that we aren’t going to be able to afford this with five of us to feed.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” said the host soothingly.  But he made no move to hand me the menu that was lying right there in front of me.  I hesitated, then just reached out and took one from the top of the stack and opened it.  Oh, boy!  It wasn’t the menu.  It was the drink list.  I was feeling more and more out of place by the minute.  I felt like I was embarrassing our group, and all I wanted to do was just disappear from there and magically appear out in the car, ready to get out of there.  At that moment, a waiter appeared out of nowhere and put the leather bound menu in my hands and retrieved his precious drink menu.  I scurried back to our group and we opened the elegant missive and began to read.

Appetizers pretty much started at twenty dollars.  Steak was forty-two at the least.  Hamburgers were eighteen.  My eyes pretty much glassed over at that point.  I know that there are plenty of people reading this that don’t find those prices so unusual, but for this slower, lower Delaware gang whose idea of really eating out is considerably different, it was too much.  We looked at each other, and mutually agreed that we were not going to stay.  It was at that moment that the waiter appeared to tell us that our table was ready. He stood there expectantly,  looking at this crew of motley dressed people that had descended upon this fine establishment. I handed the menu back across the counter to the host.

Chapter 4

We wanted to get a fairly early start at Sea World, but “early” in San Diego and “early” in Delaware are, well, a continent apart.  Lena is a night owl, working until the wee hours of the morning, and then sleeping in and starting work any time after ten in then morning.  Her job as business manager for a large medical group in San Diego seems to be better executed when there aren’t all the usual office things going on.  She knows her seven doctors , two physician assistants and one nurse practitioner and bevy of nurses and staff workers well, and they call her OFTEN, but she does her best work when she is mostly alone in the building with few distractions.  She wants to retire in about two years, and is in the process of training someone to take her place, but it will be some time before her position (as the final financial word for the business) will be fully replaced.  It seems as if most things just cannot quite function without her.

Daniel got up, got his shower and went on a walk to find a paper.  Lena and I started rummaging around for some breakfast, and then he came in, declared it a perfect morning, and we got ourselves ready for a great day at Sea World.  Even though there are some closer to home, We had never been to such a place before.  Lena dropped us off at the gate, and went on to work.  We got our tickets and a map and a schedule of events and started our adventure.  The day was hot, and it didn’t take us too long to rent a locker for my jacket and my purse.  Lockers with unlimited access rented for nine dollars a day, but the attendant cheerfully told us that if we didn’t need to get into it, there were lockers that rented for $1.25 for “One Use.” That was good enough for me.  The only problem was that after we had carefully locked everything up in there, we remembered that my phone was in my purse.  I had my camera, and I decided that it was just fine for me to not have my phone.  Daniel had his, and if there was any emergency of any consequence, they would call his.  And so we set out.

There was so much to see!  We started in the Sesame Street area which is actually a play area for kids! 

The first scheduled event was something for the small fry.  We wanted to take in this show for children so that we could send pictures back for our grandbaby.  We inquired at the gate as to where it was located since it was starting in 15 minutes after our arrival.  The fellow at the gate appeared to be a bit limited, but he confidently proclaimed that it was to be in the Sesame Street Play area, so we began there.  It was discouraging to learn too late that it was, in fact, held in some theater half way across the complex.  So we decided to skip it and just work our way around to the first Killer Whale show of the day.  The way there was incredibly picturesque.  The flowers were phenomenal!  Landscaping was truly breathtaking. 

There was an area that had all the flags of the states in a circle with plaques for each state at the base of the flags.  We found all the flags for the states that our children live in, took pictures of the plaques, took pictures of the flags, and thought about our far away family.  We came around a circle and found a Shamu the Killer Whale impersonator, taking pictures with whomever wanted to participate, and a bystander took a short video of Grammy and Grampa saying “HI” to Grandbaby Charis.  When the short speech was finished, I was surprised by a sudden brush on my cheek of a fuzzy lip and a smooching sound.  Guess who got kissed by Shamu the Killer Whale!  What a claim to fame.  The only problem was, when we looked at the video, you couldn’t tell that it was a kiss.  It just looked like the whale looked at me and accidentally brushed against me.  Fuzzy, stuffed whale costumes just have no way of puckering up!  Oh, well.  It was what it was!

We went over then, to the Shamu Stadium and saw the first of the shows for the day.  What an experience.  It is hard to believe that 9,000 pounds of whale can be trained to do all that stuff! 

(I know this doesn’t look like much, but the spectacular video I took WILL NOT UPLOAD!) 

It was amazing!  We sat above the first twelve rows because of little signs that said, “Warning:  First twelve rows are ‘soak zone.’  If you do not wish to be wet, please sit above row 12.“  We did not really care to be wet, so we chose seats that were central, but higher in the bleachers.  Wow!, were we ever glad we did!  They weren’t kidding about that soak zone business.  One daddy took his little boy (maybe a year old) down the side so they could see better, and they were standing there, enjoying the show, when one of the whales turned suddenly and flung this wave of water up over the section where the guy was standing, holding his child.  Oh, dear.  Was that little fellow ever insulted!  He wailed and wailed and refused to be comforted.  The thing is, there is almost never just one splash, and I think the whale may have sent three or four heavy showers over that section before he went on to other things.  The daddy retreated up the bleachers, but it was a source of great unhappiness and noise on the part of the little guy.

The show lasted about a half an hour, and the lower sections all pretty much got their turn at getting wet.  But then we needed to really walk fast to get over to the next show which was the seals.  This was a comedy show, and it really was funny.  There were two seals with their trainers, plus a trained otter, and an emcee.  The show was on the order of a Laurel and Hardy production, and again, it was hard to believe that mere animals could do all those things.  It was lighthearted and not nearly as intense as the whale show, but still really enjoyable.

We had a little time, then, and we were getting a little bit hungry.  The thing was, Lena was going to take us out again that night for supper somewhere, so we really didn’t want to pay Sea World prices for food that we really didn’t NEED since we had eaten breakfast later than usual.  We had seen signs for funnel cakes and so we decided that we would get a “snacky” type thing to eat and then wait for supper.  We went into this nice little eating place and saw how big the funnel cakes were and what was available.  It wasn’t a big decision to buy one funnel cake and split it.  It was the best funnel cake we have ever eaten.  It was as big as a dinner plate, with hot apple pie filling on top of that and then a whole bunch of soft ice cream on top of that. 

We both had more than plenty, and were very well satisfied.  We got something to drink — I think water, and that was our lunch.  It tasted so good on that hot day.

It felt like it was getting hotter and hotter, too.  We had a Dolphin Show next on the schedule, and we meandered over there and found places about a half an hour early.  We sat there in the full sun, and I realized that we both were going to be sunburned in short order.  The bleachers were metal, and there was no shade available except down there in the (you guessed it!) soak section.  I wished and wished that I had gotten some sun screen somewhere, but didn’t remember seeing any in our meanderings.  Daniel had purchased a hat within the first half hour in the park.  One of the meds that he was on had warned  seriously about exposure to sun while on that medicine, so he had wisely decided to protect his head and face.  Up on those bleachers, though, there was no protection, and I became more and more worried that the rest of our trip would be affected by serious sunburns.  Just then a fellow came up through the bleachers, selling small tubes of sunscreen and hats.  We were both so relieved to see the sunscreen that we didn’t care that it cost $9.00 a tube.  We got ourselves slathered down and rightly protected and surprisingly, even after having already been in the sun for several hours, we both came through without any serious burn.  The Dolphin show was a longer than usual show, though, and, like I said, we had gotten there early, and I am quite certain we would have been in big trouble without protection.  The one thing that happened was that the sun was such that it didn’t lend itself well to picture taking, so I didn’t get pictures from the Dolphin show.

The Dolphin show is special for the “human interest” aspect of it.  There is spectacular and silly and stuff that takes your breath away and stuff that makes you laugh — but the dolphins have an almost human quality that is endearing and makes you go “Aw-w-w-w-w-w.  That’s so sweet!”  They actually did their show like a drama production, and both animal and human participants were perfectly trained and worked together flawlessly.  They did their share of splashing the lower rows of the stadium, too, but their splashing lacked the sense of — I don’t know — maybe malice– that the whales had in theirs.  The people who got wet from the dolphins seemed to have less a sense of danger in the drenching and more a sense of a friendly water fight.  It was a particularly interesting contrast for us.

There was one more show over at the Shamu auditorium that was different from the morning one.  In between all of this, we saw penguins and beluga whales and polar bears and sea lions and walrus and just all sorts of animals and flowers.  We caught the last show of the whales, and then things pretty much wound down for us.  It was almost five o’clock before we knew it, so we retrieved the jacket and purse from the locker, and made a final visit to the restrooms.

While in the restroom, I heard a mommy having a conversation with her little girl a few doors down.

“No, Abby,” said the sweet Mommy voice, “You said you had to go to the bathroom.  You go first.”

“Mommy go!” said the little voice.

“No, Abby, you go first.  When little girls have to go potty, they really need to go.  Mommies can hold it better than little girls, so you go first, then Mommy will go.”

There followed evidence that the little girl did in fact go to the potty and there was effusive praise from the Mommy.  There followed a conversation between them about having a little brother and the Mommy said, “This is where you understand about being a big sister, because you have your little brother, Justin.  Not all little girls have little brothers.”  There followed some question that I didn’t understand, but it involved the technicalities of the birds and the bees.  I was so impressed by the Mommy’s response to her little girlie.

“That’s a good question, Abby, and I want to explain it to you.  I think, though, that there are things about this that you can understand better when you are a little older, and I will explain it better then.”  The little girl was satisfied with that answer.  We came out of the stalls at the same time, and the Mommy was helping her wash her hands at the sink, and I watched the two of them and the obvious care and kindness on the part of the mommy and the respect the little girlie had for her mommy, and it made my day.  So often experiences such as Sea World are fraught with screaming children, impatient parents and poor parenting strategies.  This was a brief but encouraging glimpse into the great job some parents are doing, and it was heartwarming.

Then Lena came and whisked us away.  She wanted to make it to the Pacific Ocean before the sun set. Sunsets over the Pacific are like sunrises over the Atlantic. There is nothing quite like them, and we set off with the best of intentions, but very short on time to make it.  There was a wrong turn, and as a result we did not get there before the sun had sunk behind the final bank of clouds. 

It was still pretty nice, and since it wasn’t dark yet, we clambered over the large sand dunes between the parking lot and the broad expanse of water beyond.  The air was chilly since the sun had gone down, but Daniel and I both had purposeful intent.  We really, really wanted to put our feet into the Pacific Ocean. 

Lena thought we were crazy, but I took off my sandals (they were full of sand, anyhow) and stood where the next big wave would come over my freezing toes.  It caught me unprepared for how cold it was, but it was still exhilarating! 

 
   (It’s kinda hard to get decent pictures of your own feet!)

I watched the water curl around my toes, and thought again about what a privilege I had been granted.  It seemed almost like a dream that I was HERE.  Standing in the Pacific Ocean.  This gal from slower, lower Delaware, in San Diego, CA, seeing things I’ve never seen before, doing things I’ve never done before.  It was unreal!  Here we were. Daniel and I, on the trip of a lifetime, and it was just so very sweet!

And then we clambered back over the dunes to the parking lot, shaking the sand out from between our toes and off our feet.  My feet were freezing, and Lena’s car felt good after the hard, cold pavement.  She took us to a small, hometown kind of restaurant that evening, and Daniel and I both had chopped steak with gravy, veggies and potatoes.  We were really, really hungry, and the servings were generous, the prices very reasonable.  We lingered over the meal, telling Lena all about our day, and feeling more than a little exhausted.  We watched the people come and go, and were delighted with our happy, personable, attentive waiter.  It would take some serious time to assimilate all we had seen that day, and both of us were ready for some sleeping.  We paid the bill and headed for home.  Our plans were to head up to Pasadena the next day (Friday) to see Mary Beth and Joanna Sharp, two girls from our church who are in a mission training program up there.  Lena was taking the day off to go with us, and we were expecting a fairly leisurely day.  This day at Sea World was anything but leisurely, but we truly enjoyed every minute of it.   What wonderful, wonderful memories!