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The world lost someone precious today. Not a movie star or well-known personality. To her students, she was Queen of their school year. She was their teacher. Her name was Eva. As I’ve said before, a lot is said through a person’s eyes. Here, I see kindness, compassion, and confidence. Yesterday, Eva showed something else. Ferocity. No, I was not there. But, Eva was a teacher. Teachers are fierce people when anything threatens their students. We’re just wired like that.
Yesterday, Eva and 19 of her students were stolen from this earth.
The news said Eva had been teaching for 17 years. She was in her prime. I remember my own classroom and the students that taught me so much over the years. On 9/11/2001, we comforted each other in Room 20. On so many regular days, we became heroes to each other. For one year out of their lives, they had an additional family member. Mrs. Hurt. As for me, I have hundreds of “extra” children that will be 3rd graders in my heart for the rest of my life, their memories frozen in games of jump rope or animal reports handwritten in the sweetest cursive.
To be a teacher is one of the most beautiful professions a person can choose. Over the years, you become identifiable as a teacher because, face it, sensible shoes are comfortable. Clothes that hide stains while being easy to move in are the way to go. Hair styles aren’t important because there are too many papers to grade and activities to plan. Tired eyes happen after nights sleep doesn’t come while trying to decide the best approach to a classroom problem. There are confidences to keep and accomplishments to cheer. But above all, there are children to protect. My last class was made of 27 5th graders, 9 going on 10, just like Eva’s kids.
Happy. Smelly. Intense. Sleepy. Funny. Inspirational. Bored. Confused. Hormonal. Tussled. Hopeful. Growing. Inquisitive. Pure. Purposeful. Open to new ideas. Thinking. Analytical. Life long learners. English-Second-Language. Entitled. Poor. Sniff-ly. Athletic. Clumsy. Kind. Respectful. Bundles of love.
All those adjectives described the 27 reasons I went to work every day at the crack of dawn.
Every day of my career, I told my students I loved them. Once in the morning, and once before they walked out the door. Guess what? They told me they loved me, too. Because, without love and respect between a student and teacher, something very special gets lost. I put on band aids and dried tears. I knew when they weren’t feeling well before they did, and the same care and affection was given to me. We shared important stuff like a special birthday song and homemade cupcakes brought by proud moms. They knew “the look”, and all secretly accepted the fact that teachers DO have eyes in the back of their heads.
Teachers – a special group of people that are on the front lines everyday. Students – a special group of people coming together to learn. Together – MAGIC.
No, I wasn’t there.
But. I know.
Eva died protecting her students.
The world lost something very, very special yesterday. A teacher and her students finishing a year they would never forget, while being ready to begin a summer ripe with possibilities. They will remain elementary students and their teacher in our hearts forever. Please send prayers to Uvalde.
Each one of us possesses unique and beautiful gifts needed to make it through life. This weekend, artists came together all over town to create magic on empty walls. At first, the Grumpy Old Woman in me was a little bent about “graffiti” adorning our shared spaces. After all, who wants “graffiti” littering our streets as we race around the town. Well, color me too stuffy and a lot wrong.
Just look at the water tower! Over a period of days, volunteers of all ages came to paint the most beautiful murals around town. By Sunday evening, the town had a new look. Desert winds sandblast the best of paints, leaving our Main Street buildings looking faded and tired. Having some new murals to brighten things up is a cheerful addition to our rather quiet wide space along the interstate.
An intriguing part of this activity was that no one really knew who would be doing the painting. It was decided the painting would happen this weekend trusting that the murals would be completed by strangers. Isn’t life a little like that? It isn’t all about who shows up with their talents and gifts? Not one person possesses every talent. In this project, there was the graphic design artist that had to make their murals fit to scale on the side of the buildings or the water tower. The color artists picked out the correct paint and made sure everything was ready on painting day. Those that were skilled in organization prepared all the supplies necessary to pull this off. The advertising people made sure to get the word out about this fantastic event. Musicians got their play lists ready for the weekend. Before you knew it, it was a one-of-a-kind, small town event.
In our own lives, we are gifted with what we need right where we are, right here and now in this very moment. For sure, we need each others. That’s a given.
Even in a place as barren as the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada we need to strive to thrive where we are. Life’s mural will slowly unfold if you only step back a little and allow it to do so. Each having our own assignments, if we work together the results will be stunning. I can’t do your thing and you can’t do mine, but together, we can achieve miracles.
If you have a knife, fork, and spoon, then that is what you need. But, if you’re missing one, don’t forget to ask a friend. They might just have an extra to lend you. No one else has what you have, the same way you have it. It’s okay to ask for help, but just don’t give up. We’ve all come too far to turn back now.
Watching the choir in church on Sunday, the lesson was evident. The guitarist might not have had the strongest voice, while the vocalist couldn’t begin to pluck out Mary Had a Little Lamb on the guitar. The drummer couldn’t play the hymn we were signing on the piano, but he kept us in time with the beat of his drums. It took each of them, along with the congregation, to make “I Come to the Garden Alone” ring in the rafters. Just like life, nobody has everything they need to handle everything alone.
I hope your town is lucky enough to have an event like the one we had this weekend. If they do, go pick up and brush and discover the artist in you!
Last week, a series of unfortunate events left me praying for girlfriends on Thursday morning. Having been raised in a family of five girls, I’m the one that isn’t the girly type. High drama and the silliness of fashion leave me cold. Shopping isn’t a hobby of mine. I really rather talk about guy stuff. And yes, at 66 years of age, there is a big difference between girl stuff and guy stuff. Anyone who says there isn’t hasn’t lived much.
Thursday morning, being alone with my Bible, I prayed for a source of new girlfriends. Face it, as a single woman, the minute you are seen having coffee with a man, gossip spreads like wildfire. Not wanting to be THAT woman, I would delight in having a group of girlfriends to do things with. A group that is supportive and kind. As I prayed, in the back of my head a negative voice was saying “Right. Where are you going to find this?”
Around 9:15, still being alone and a little blue, I went out to actively search for a new source of friends. Another church had always been of interest to me. Not far from Winterpast, the church in question was located by the golf course. They might offer Bible studies at times different from the ones I was already attending. It was worth a try, so off I went in my little Jeep.
Sadly, when I drove into the parking lot, I realized not every church is hub of activity. On Thursday morning at 9:45-ish, this church was zipped up tight. No welcoming office staff. No Pastor out cutting the grass or washing the widows. Nothing except an empty parking lot. As empty as my heart at that moment.
Where would I ever find friends that were worthy of trust and laughter? Interesting people of like mind. Although I have a lifetime left to find them, that lifetime is getting shorter every day. I’d already tried the woman’s political group. That wasn’t a source of anything except heartburn and angst. A small town is limited in options.
I made a decision to go to Lowe’s and hit the garden section. Nothing better than a good selection of flowers to brighten a day. The threat of frost has now passed for this growing season and good temperatures for planting are almost over. Needing tomato plants, I decided that it would brighten my mood. My search for friendship could continue on another day.
Driving towards the railroad tracks, something came over me, ultimately guiding my little Jeep in a different direction. I remembered that on my first Thanksgiving, I’d been buying food for the dinner I had planned with Miss Firecracker and myself. Being our first widowed Thanksgiving, we would find laughter someway, somehow. Leaving the store, stood a small group of people collecting food for less fortunate families. They were such a good group, I went back in the store and shopped for them.
Now, I had some direction. The time — 9:50-ish. I’d go there first and see if they had a list of the programs offered. I knew they’d have something.
The church sits on the opposite side of the tracks. With three main buildings, cars filled the parking lot. Signs of life made me feel better the minute I drove in. Although I didn’t see any people, I spotted a small wooden sign pointing the way to the office. I’d just pop in, hoping that door was unlocked.
Opening the door, I wasn’t prepared for the scene on the other side. While I was just hoping for a slip of paper listing times and dates of studies and prayer meetings, God answered my prayer with something far more wonderful. Inside that door, around 4 tables set up in a square sat 12 – 14 of the most beautiful smiling faces. Refreshments sat at the ready. Homemade carrot cake and other goodies, along with steaming coffee.
At an empty chair, front and center, sat before a piece of paper. In rather large font it said the following:
FRIEND
\frend\ noun
someone who gives you freedom to be yourself;
one of the nicest things you can have;
the best thing you can be.
“Hi!!! You’re just in time for Bible study. Please stay!” said the cheery woman on the other side of the room. The time — 10:00. I had driven to this Bible study and arrived at exactly the right time on exactly the right day. There are no accidents in this life.
These women were similar in age to me. By 11:30, I felt as if I had known this group for a very long time. It’s all in the eyes and smiles. One woman brought me the study materials. Someone handed me a pen. Another made sure I had a copy of words to the songs we would sing at the beginning of the meeting. Yet another asked me to tell the group a little about myself. Just like that, God sent me to a safe place full of tender, caring people. A group of friends I hadn’t met yet, until right then.
Now included in their text chains, let the fun begin. Last night, a phone call turned into an hour of getting to know someone new. The most special woman who started the Bible study just months ago. A woman who is amazed at the speed in which it’s growing, one woman at a time. I’m so glad, I was last week’s new woman.
My Thursdays are booked for awhile. This group hits the Senior Center for lunch after class. I’m invited to a birthday party in June. Just like that.
When you need something, ask in prayer. Listen for the answer. Because, answers will come. Remember, there are no accidents in life.
Due to technical difficulties, I will be back on Monday. Sometimes, the computer world is a little too complicated for one country girl. Enjoy the rest of your week.
When in the world did we all get too busy to show a little kindness? Let a person go ahead in line? Smile at a stranger? Helping a neighbor? The world is speeding at warp speed. The grouchy waitress might have been up all night with a cranky baby. The distracted sales clerk may have just lost their beloved pet. Unless the world starts connecting, things will only get worse. The greatest thing is that kindness is free. The simplest act can make someone’s day so much better. It just takes a little awareness and effort on our part.
Try it today. Just pick one person. Be kind. See what happens.
Is anybody happier
Because you passed their way?
Does anyone remember
That you spoke to them today?
This day is almost over
And it’s toiling time is through;
Is there anyone thinking about
A friendly word from you?
Can you say tonight in passing
With the days that slipped so fast
That you helped a single person,
Of the many that you passed?
Is a single heart rejoicing
Over what you did or said
Does one whose hopes were fading
Now with courage look ahead?
Did you waste the day, or lose it?
Was it well or poorly spent?
Did you leave a trail of kindness
Or a scar of discontent?
Kindness is a simple thing
Free and ever present.
Spread it all throughout your days
With joy, go forth. Be Pleasant.
Borrowed from God’s Little Devotional Journal for Women
Have a wonderful day today. Go forth and spread some kindness.
Ahh, somedays life throws us unexpected complications on top of worry? The things we value the most occupy our thoughts and color our deeds. So, what do you spend the most time worrying about? It seems the future becomes less certain every day providing a script of worry and woe that not even the best writer could dream up.
Yesterday, thirteen people decided they needed groceries. Grocery shopping is a lot of things. Boring. Tedious. Time consuming. Expensive. But, it shouldn’t have ever cost ten of those people their lives. Three others have unnecessary injuries that have changed their lives forever. A troubled young soul had evil on his mind. It brewed in his heart, producing hate that he expressed with the trigger of a gun. Even worse, he filmed the rampage for other innocents to watch. Again, another tragedy at the hands of a mentally ill fool.
These days, I avoid the news whenever possible. In the third year of widowhood and the Single Life of the Senior Citizen, I have plenty to occupy my mind without the thought of bullets whizzing past me in Dairy or Produce. Did I close the garage door? Are the gates locked? Did I turn off the burners on the stove? Are my underwear presentable if I need to go to the emergency room? Will my neighborhood remain a safe place for me to live? And my favorite VST saying, “What shall the end be?” Each day, it seems we’re closer to the realization that “All good things must come to an end.” I just never thought that’d refer to America and our way life.
Looking for peace in my heart, I ran across a little advice that is helping comfort my worried heart. Approaching some rapids, these things will buoy me like a life vest during these harrowing times.
I need the simplest things to live. God. Food. Water. Shelter. Clothing. Health. Personal safety. How simple is that? Everything else is above and beyond. So, I’m going to dial back expectations for my life, relying on gratitude for the simplest of things, which I already have in abundance.
2. Courage. We all need to be courageous in our day to day lives. Life is not for shrinking Violets. Johnny Jump Ups don’t life very long in the desert. Now, Saguaro Cactus! That’s a plant. And entire community of protection and life, thriving in the desert. Yes. If I had to be a plant, I’d pick the Saguaro.
3. Self-Denial. Time that we could all dial back our “I must have……’s.” Have you ever walked down an aisle in Walmart and looked at the ridiculous things we are convinced we NEED in our American lives? Really? Have you ever purged a closet, realizing a month later that you can’t even remember what you threw out? Turn attention to the things we already have and find enjoyment in them. There are no pockets in a shroud.
4. Occupation. Stay busy. If retired, stay busy with all the chores that, once done, make life more comfortable for you. If a widow, double that amount, because you have no one to help. Do them your own way and in your own time, but, stay busy and be thankful you are able to stay occupied.
5. A Clear Conscience. Live in truth, whatever that may be. If you want to say “No”, say no. No explanation needed. Don’t lie. Read the Ten Commandments and do your best to follow them. Avoid gossip, judgement of others, prejudice, and a stiff neck. Breathe in the spring air and close your eyes at night knowing you did no harm. Live in peace.
Any one of those tips is monumental, but if even one of them is embraced, comfort is sure to follow.
Last year, Winterpast got a new blanket of DG. For those of you living in the lush green grasses of California, let me explain. DG stands for Decomposed Granite. In other words, crushed rock. DG is the material covering lovely garden paths at your local nursery. It’s great for zero-scaping, making everything look neat and tidy. The larger-sized DG doesn’t blow away like sand does in our Zephyr windstorms that regularly blow through here.
This year, for some unknown reason, my DG is supporting a crop of weeds. Growing atop two inches of crushed rock, these little succulents and their roots are easy enough to remove. With no mulch or dirt in which to anchor themselves, these little weeds have managed to find enough moisture from the air to grow. I spread DG as an effective weed barrier. How many would I have without the DG?
Life is just like my DG, isn’t it? You think everything is raked up neat and tidy, when in reality, we’re all just a lab report away from disaster. Those moments when your DG looks just perfect as you sip lemonade on your porch are moments. Real life is everything else we deal with or dodge 24/7. Weeds in the DG is God’s way of giving me something small to distract me from off the bigger problems in life, even if only for an hour.
Living on a street of retired gardeners, letting the weeds remain isn’t an option. In my dusty little town at the wide spot in the road, my neighborhood is an oddity. People actually like creating a beautiful yard and spend hours caring for them. On my street especially, weeds are frowned upon. Mind you, this isn’t the normal way of thinking in my town.
Two of the best gardening home owners are ready to sell. Sadly, they live right across the street. Aged out, they are returning to family in California while the fate of our street remains in the hands of reality professionals. Loud music? Zero-scapers? Party animals? People with multiple adult children and their children living under one roof? Or retired people that appreciate the quiet solitude that the desert provides. Only time will tell. I know that I’ve been blessed with the quietest of neighbors for two years now. My luck probably won’t hold out much longer. Living in a sea of original owners enjoying their twilight years was a risk I took when buying Winterpast. After 20 years, the neighborhood is ripe for a change.
Today, the weather may start warming up a little. It’s 42 degrees as I write this morning, with an expected high in the 70’s. A wonderful day to get rid of the unwanted weeds in the front yard while soaking up the sun and making a little Vitamin D on my own.
After the weeds are done, I plan to visit VST’s headstone in Virginia City. If you visit the cemetery, go to the top of the hill and look for one of the few new headstones of the only Dr. in the place. You’ll find it. If you can’t, ask Calvin, the caretaker. He’ll take you right to the spot, as he knows every inch of the property.
For the first time as a widow, I’ve purchased a lovely headstone spray in red, white, and blue flowers. While decorating Winterpast with some patriotic buntings in recognition of Memorial Day, I remembered that my other little spot of Nevada real estate needs some attention. On a barren hilltop, surrounded by headstones of those who passed in the 1800’s, few relatives are left to remember their loved ones. A wonderful reason to spend a morning in VC and enjoy a lunch of Gospel Fried Chicken at Cafe del Rio. I may even chase it with an ice cream cone from Grandma’s Fudge and Confections.
Whatever you do today, make it enjoyable. It’s Friday!! Kick up your heels and live a little.
With the crazy weather we’ve been experiencing here on the desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, thoughts have turned back to the comfort of soup for dinner. I’ve always wanted to try recipes from “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” by Julia Child. I was a big fan of the hilarious impersonations on Saturday Night Live from long ago. Then, I watched the movie “Julie and Julia”, and decided I needed that cookbook. On my first Christmas as a widow, Santa Claus came through and I got my very own copy. The first section is all about soups.
Two weeks ago, after dicing cups of onions and buying the right kind of beef broth and Vermouth, my first try at French Onion soup was a rave success. Prepared only for myself, even the carefully prepared crouton was perfect. Each day the soup ripened, until on the third day, it was truly mind blowing.
Today, the clouds are again forming in the sky. With temps never getting above 50 degrees today, Soup #2 is in the crock pot. Cream of Mushroom soup. I found the perfect mushrooms today at the store. With all the necessary ingredients, I began dicing and slicing. It will slowly cook in the crock pot on low until dinner.
Below is the recipe. Although the soup isn’t finished yet, it has every promise of being just as fantastic as the first. Who knew that so few ingredients could create such a wonderful result. Enjoy.
Potage Veloute’ Aux Champignons (Cream of Mushroom Soup)
Mastering the Art of French Cooking — Julia Child — Pages 40-41.
Here is a fine, rich mushroom soup for grand occasions or as the main course for a Sunday supper for 6 to 8 people.
1/4 cup minced onions
3 Tbsp. Butter
3 Tbsp. flour
6 cups boiling chicken stock
2 parsley sprigs
1 bay leaf
1/8 tsp. thyme
The chopped stems from 1 lb. of mushrooms
2 Tbsp. Butter
The thinly sliced caps from 1 lb. of mushrooms
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp lemon juice
2 egg yolks
1/2 – 3/4 cup whipping cream
Optional
1 – 3 Tbsp. softened butter
6-8 fluted mushroom caps cooked in butter and lemon juice
In a 2 1/2 quart, heavy-bottomed enameled saucepan, cook the onions slowly in the butter for 8 to 10 minutes, until they are tender, but not brown.
Add the flour and stir over moderate heat for 3 minutes without browning.
Off heat, beat in the boiling stock or broth and blend it thoroughly with the flour. Season to taste. Stir in the mushroom stems, and simmer partially covered, for 20 minutes or more, skimming occasionally. Strain, pressing juices out of the mushroom stems. Return the soup to the pan. ( At this point, I put the soup in my crock pot on low heat).
Melt the butter in a separate saucepan. When it is foaming, toss in the mushrooms, salt, and lemon juice. Cover and cook slowly for five minutes.
Pour the mushrooms and their cooking juices into the strained soup base. Simmer for 10 minutes.
*If not to be served immediately, set aside uncovered, and film the surface with a spoonful of cream or milk. Reheat to simmer just before proceeding to the step below, which will take 2 to 3 minutes.
Beat the egg yolks and cream in the mixing bowl. Then, beat in hot soup by spoonful’s until a cup has been added. Gradually stir in the rest. Correct seasoning. Return the soup to the pan and stir over moderate heat for a minute or two to poach the egg yolks, but do not let the soup come near the simmer.
Off heat, stir in the butter by tablespoons. Pour the soup in a tureen or soup cups, and decorate with optional mushrooms and herbs.
In Julia’s own sweet words, “What a happy task you have set for yourself! The pleasures of the table are infinite. Toujours bon Appetit!!!”
