The Nanny State

Recent Instagram post:

Small boy: "I think I'll try climbing like my sister.."

Grandma: repeatedly bangs head against tree in despair #mightaswellcalltheparamedics

***

I could see it coming, but had hoped it wouldn't. It was the last morning of darling Cannon Beach, and breakfast was over. The children had all said their goodbyes and felt themselves at a loose end. And then, "Let's go for one last fling at the park, shall we?" said Grandpa. Grandpa was always happy at the park. 

Even Grandma was happy there, now. She had become less and less agitated in that setting. Fewer and fewer frightened comments made it past her lips. It was just a matter of adapting, she thought. So, over to it we went, one last time.

The small girl's best friend, another tree-climber, was there with her father. We had daily seen them there so by this time, all of us were friends. The men had taken to meeting at the base of the tree, I suppose ready to catch small children as they dropped.

But wait...there were more small people now clustered beneath that tree. In fact, the three year old and his friend stood clutching its lower branches. Grandma wondered. They had never yet showed an interest.

"Grandma?" he now said. "I like this tree."

"Oh, that's nice dear, let's move on over to the tire swing.." and Grandma started walking that direction.

He hesitated. "But, I don't want the tire swing," he sweetly called out in the direction of my back. "I want the TREE!"

And then I could hear Grandpa, cheering him on. "Hey, that's great! You can climb it, sure! Go right on ahead!"

I opened my mouth with a response, but something in the little fellow's delighted face stopped me. Like sister, like brother. They climbed in tandem, concentrating; doing their job.

Grandmas can sometimes be a one-woman Nanny State. It isn't very attractive to small children. Right then, this Nanny State closed up shop.

I moseyed over to the tire swing anyway. Nobody says Grandma has to watch.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

The Color and the Light

Perhaps it was only a matter of time.

The weather might be chilly there, and the winds may tend to blow. But just look at this and fall in love. I dare you not to.

The SconeLady's fingers are strangely quick on the keys once again, searching for the perfect spot to linger. It is a combination of the sea, and the color, and the light - and the people - that calls a person back there, over and over again. I have tried to figure it out but can come up with only a vague notion that, although it isn't exactly home, it runs a close 2nd. And besides, the only scones I have been able to taste over here since April have been the ones that I, or my sister, have made ourselves. Try as I might to find them, the call for scones - and afternoon tea in general - remains illusive.

Therefore, a rather dreamlike plan begins to form; hazy, imprecise, but hovering near the inevitable. As you know, at least half the fun of going is the planning! And this time, besides the endless pursuit of scones I really must begin my gradual tour of the Cathedrals of England. There are (as far as I can count) 44 Anglican Cathedrals in England alone. And I have been to only 11! Each of them was worth every effort it took to find them, and in fact - all were breathtaking.

Truro Cathedral, Cornwall

Nothing has really happened yet, for it is early days and there is time to think and plan. Just gazing seems to help. I can totally see why Rick Steves has become such an inveterate travel aficionado. It might be a virus, or something. Perhaps we have caught it, and do not wish to find the cure.

See you along the way!
the SconeLady

Idol

The year was 1972 and we had all decided to communicate together by way of cassette. It was a far, far different world than the one we now find ourselves in. Do all of my readers know just what it is that I mean by the word 'cassette'? Well, here is a photo of a stack of them, just in case:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/28097840@N04/4571048321

Cassettes have mostly now disappeared from the stage of this world, but back then they held center stage. The SconeLady (who was not yet the SconeLady, truth be told) was in New Zealand, and the rest of the family were scattered about in the various states of the USA. Letters were slow, but admittedly useful. Phone calls? prohibitive. So - what else should we do?

Cassette tape was deemed unique and fun; plus, I was so lonely in my hideaway down under that the human voices coming to me from over-the-sea would be immensely reassuring.

Long after this had been decided, and just when I thought it never would, the cassette finally arrived. The mail arrival was during our morning session break, and soon my name was being called. And there the package sat peering enticingly at me from amongst a pile of letters for everyone else. I could not yet listen to it - oh woe was me! - but I placed it inside my desk in the lecture hall, reaching in to touch it from time to time as I listened. The wait felt like torture.

But at last the lecturer concluded his final point, and let us out for lunch. I dashed to the dining room and consumed tomato soup, pikelets (tiny pancakes often eaten at lunchtime), scones (!) and white bread (did I tell you I gained a *stone while in New Zealand? Just sayin)'.

Back in my shared room, I inserted the tape into the cassette recorder, and pushed 'play'. There, for my amazed enjoyment and satisfaction were the voices of my sweet family members from thousands of miles northeast of this small room. The immediate reaction was one of tears. 

"What is the matter?" said my concerned roommate.

I pulled out a tissue. "Oh - well, nothing is really the matter. It's just that my family sent me this tape and I am so completely happy to hear their voices.."




https://www.flickr.com/photos/61411590@N03/5979684808

She nodded, and tiptoed out the door, to let me listen - and cry - in peace.

After all these years I cannot remember all of what I heard on that blessed tape. But one segment became lodged in my memory, never to escape. Two small nieces shared their own sweet selves with us, telling all about their experiences. Of huge importance was the fact that God was giving them "the food we need, and the money we need," along with the details of how He was doing all of this. They were only 2 and 4 years old, yet they knew from whence their sustenance came. 

Then, they shared a song they had written after having heard the story of the Israelites worshipping idols they had no business worshipping. The girls were very impressed by this sad departure from God's clear instruction. Their voices sang their song for us in a minor key, which went like this:

Never worship an idol!

Never, never, never, no, no!

Never, never worship an idol!

Never, never, never, no, no!

They can't see and they can't hear

For they are dead and Satan likes them.

So never worship an idol!

(spoken): NEVER!!!!!!

NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NO, NOOOOOOOO!!!!!

This song was going along just fine until the next to the last line was spoken: "NEVER!!!!!" That part did not go so well, for one little girl sang it very very loudly into the ear of the other little girl. The offended girl lifted up her head and cried, "She screamed in my ear! She SCREAMED IN MY EAR!" and could not, or would not be consoled. The song ended in much confusion while their parents forgot the tape and attempted to heal the wounds - at which I laughed loud and long.

My roommate had returned just as the screaming began. "What on earth was that all about?" she asked.

"Idol worship," I said. 

"Oh. What about it?" she asked.

"Never do it." 

I guess that about says it all. Around where I live you don't see people going about worshipping idols, per se'. We are all quite careful and private about it, right? Money, beauty, possessions and the like. So that song was actually pretty decent. But will it ever make the Top Ten list?

Never, never, never, no, no.

See you along the Way!

the SconeLady

(*a New Zealand stone equals 14 American pounds)


photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28097840@N04/4571048321">Tower of colours</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">(license)</a>

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/61411590@N03/5979684808">pancakes</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">(license)</a>

The Little Blue House

https://www.flickr.com/photos/60541684@N00/18201790449

Small and large, young and not-so, everyone gathered out of doors. It was a mildly warm SoCal evening punctuated by the laughter and chatter of many. They had begun by eating a delicious dinner to give them energy for the task, and now all were ready. 

Even the children held tools.

There was a huge and offending tree-bush to remove, and lots of friendly people to remove it. Word had spread of this need, and so they had piled into their cars and arrived at the Little Blue House. The whole thing reminded me a little of the groups of Amish who gather for a neighbor's barn-raising. Why pay a company to do something that can be done together?

The huge and offending tree-bush. Before.

Probably the most intriguing part of all this activity was the important presence of children in it. They were very much a part of the team, and knew it. The grownups knew it too, and accepted/honored/thanked them. Perhaps no heavy tree limbs were actually cut away by these small helpers, and perhaps no thick roots were felled by their strength alone. But they lifted branches, put them into wheelbarrows, helped wheel them to the pickup bed, and hacked away at any number of rogue branches. It was all very satisfying. And purposeful. They were a part of something important.

Because I am a Grandmother within this scenario, I was privy to a secret here: no one produced a video game or movie to keep the children 'occupied' and 'out of the way'. Not one. And I ask you this: which child is better off? -

a) a child who stays indoors for hours playing Grand Theft Auto and Minecraft, or 

b) the child who spent those hours in the back yard hacking away at tree branches surrounded by hard-working and funny adults? 

Workmen, workwomen, workchildren

Just asking.

I'm pretty certain that had any of us suggested a video game, the children would have turned it down flat. Who'd want to be cooped up like that, anyway?

The neat and tidy corner. After.

The SconeLady plays with two small workers while on their 'break'

At some point during the evening it became known that one of the helpers had a lot of pine needles building up in her own back yard. Someone said, Hey! we can come over and rake them with you! The lovely daughter and her 3 piled into their car this morning with their rakes, to do the job. The kids couldn't wait to get there. They know by now the meaning of the message, 'Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.' -Galatians 6:2.

Isn't that just grand? I can't think of very many more important things to teach children. And not just 'teach', as in 'tell' - but 'show' them; include them; incorporate them. You might be surprised at how happy they are to learn. 

Sounds a lot better than being isolated with Assassin's Creed, don't you think? (whatever that is).

See you along the Way!

the SconeLady

https://www.flickr.com/photos/8566600@N07/4202818176

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/60541684@N00/18201790449">Amish Country</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">(license)</a>

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/8566600@N07/4202818176">DSC06595</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">(license)</a>

The Grand Rescue

There must have been over a thousand still photos, and who knows how many video clips. The SconeLady was never without her iPhone, which was never idle so long as small children were about. Some of the adults took to asking, "Are you recording this?" when they saw me standing there in a certain posture. "Umm... yes... is that ok?" 

"Sure! - I just like to know in advance what I might be saying to the world." 

As we all trooped along the sand toward Haystack Rock, the children began noticing the small, flat, round jellyfish that are carried in with the tides there. One of the youngest began picking them up. "Oh, maybe we shouldn't touch those.." said Grandma SconeLady. But he was clearly holding one of these creepy things right there, with no noticeable negative reaction.

"It won't sting me Grandma!" he said in full trust. "My sister said so. Don't worry!"

If only it were that simple.

By this time, all 7 of the children were paying attention to the offending creatures. They were everywhere. The little blond was collecting them up, in a great 'rescue' attempt. "Oh, my darling girl let's not pick so many up!" I intoned. "They get sick if we take them out of the water."

This had a temporary effect, but soon she felt so sorry for them that the 'rescue' continued.

(Really, about all I can say is "eew.")

But they were having so much fun that we finally decided to just let it all go. Creepy though it may seem to us, the heartfelt sorrow they felt for the 'jellies' was admirable. 

And before I close this one off, I must point something out. Have you noticed anything funny about the above photo? About Haystack Rock itself, and what it might look like? The lovely daughter pointed it out last night: beginning from the left and working toward the right, you can see a strange looking man's head, nose, chin, belly, and toes - as if he has fallen asleep in the surf. The belly is Haystack Rock. Hahahaha! We all 'saw' it, and now we can see nothing else!

Today for the first time, I am trying to add video clips here - there are two, and I don't yet know whether they will 'play' when you click on them. Try it! I will, once I 'publish' the thing. I hope they do work, for they convey just exactly the freedom we felt on that loveliest of days, running and laughing and rescuing, all down the great expanse of Cannon Beach, Oregon.

You really must go!


See you along the way!
the SconeLady

The SconeLady's sister, digging with the best of them

(IT WORKED!!)

Rings

The SconeLady's left hand was awfully bare. At age 23, diamonds for me were still only dreams.

Today, that age seems almost girlish - a mere fledgling! But in the 1970s it was different. And so I gazed down at my bare left hand, and wondered.

It wasn't as though there had been no suitors. There had! But there are so many things to consider when you consider 60 or 70 years with a person. You must be poised and ready "to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." It would be Holy Matrimony, the only kind I was interested in.

So. Vows. Who could I speak such vows to? Not: who is going to present me with a diamond?! Well, you can see how thoughtful such a decision would be. And so, one waits, and prays.

I can now look back to the great day that brought such a person into my life like a flash of bright color. The ring we chose was an outward symbol of this love, and I remember sitting in church just gazing in awe at it (in between gazing at him!). The big lights shone down and made it sparkle so much that I couldn't take my eyes off of it. It was the sweetest thing.

Today you can take a look at that ring, still shining on the hand that doesn't quite look the same as it might have then. But I don't mind. So many dishes have been washed over the years that something was bound to crack!

A few days ago I met three absolutely adorable new wives. They had been married for only a few short months. Their enthusiasm toward their husbands was so sweet that we all just had to laugh. It was lovely to bask in the newness of their journey with them. They let me take a photo of their new rings:

It felt nice to stand with such stunning new members of this long and cherished tradition, to congratulate and cheer them on. Such commitments make us all a little stronger.

So here's to all those of you out there who are laying your own plans; finding your own venue; planning your vows; getting good counsel; and making numerous calls to your mothers! God bless you. We pray for you along your new pathway and are ourselves honored through it.


See you along the Way!
the SconeLady

Until Next Year

He was only little, and they were all big, sitting together over at that one table. He walked in and felt suddenly shy. But it was the last morning at Cannon Beach, and he did so wish to eat breakfast with them. And there was that one last empty chair. 

All at once they saw him and burst out into the most happy of welcomes. "Come on over!" they called out. "Sit with us!" Their hands and arms waved cheerily toward him until he finally grinned back and climbed on up. He was utterly content.

"Yay!" said one. "Hey how's it going?" called out another, and Grandma knew she could walk quietly away. She knew it was all going to be just fine, and for nearly an hour he didn't even notice she wasn't there. You see, at Cannon Beach there is a camaraderie unusually fine, a feeling that you belong and are recognized. This little fellow had felt it all during the week and now was his chance to feel it again this one last time - until next year. 



Grandma then wandered along to where the small girl had found her own teachers, and was chatting away nineteen to the dozen. "We are going to go get mommy and daddy and go camping in the Redwoods!" she enthused. "We get to stay in a TENT and EAT OUTSIDE."

Just the day before, she had heard that it was their last full day at this wonderful place. When this alarming concept had sunk in and she had known for sure that it would be ending, she lifted up her head and wept.

"But my FRIENDS! my TEACHERS! What will they DO? What will I DO? I - can't - go!" and she was quite unconsolable.

In time, she was comforted and held, coming to accept these hard truths of life. The very temporariness of it seemed to her patently unfair. But she is a smart little thing, and is learning that not everything in life is temporary. There is God. And that is what Cannon Beach is all about. 

Grandma then hovered for a bit near to where the elder brother sat with his cinnamon roll and his hot chocolate, saying his own goodbyes to those with whom he had spent so many hours. These were just exactly the right people for him. They understood him well and liked what they saw. A kid can always tell, and it changes them. Grandma had seen this change all during the week, and was happy.

You see, at the end of every week the youth leaders make themselves available in the dining hall, dressed in red and having breakfast with their young charges. You should just hear them cheerfully reaching out as the children walk in. Little ones all search wistfully for their very own and when they find them, their eyes light up as if they were seeing the cast of Frozen or something. It made me think of Heaven and the great grand welcome we will receive as we arrive. There will have been nothing like it. But in the meantime, while we are still here there are these sweet moments that make us think longingly of it. 

When the breakfast was finally finished and it was time to go, you could hear people calling out everywhere, "Goodbye! Goodbye! See you next year! We will watch for you! Take care!" 

It was hard to leave. But there was a mommy and a daddy waiting; a kind golden doggie yearning; and lots and lots of stories to tell them all.

"Let's go get mom and dad, shall we?" said Grandpa, as he picked up the smallest. The little boy's head rested on Grandpa's strong shoulder, and we all trooped out to the car.


See you along the Way!
the SconeLady