A No Button Day

Church was starting 25 minutes early today and it was Blood Pressure Clinic day and a Pumpkin Contest, and the remnants of the pork dinner sale.  I set the alarm for plenty of time but 5 snooze button minutes later I finally dragged myself out of bed to - no water pressure - so much for a Sunday Morning Shower.  FB told me it was village wide so I did a spit and polish and high tailed it north - without a button or my cel phone.
I scurried home 3 hours later.  There was a text waiting saying that the tenant was coming a day early - ok??? 45 pounds of dog hair later, I made the bed with fresh linens, swabbed the deck in the powder room and took a quick pre shopping inventory for the menu for Ghouls Day.
At 1 o'clock I was going to sit with a new widow and let her weep . Weeping can be good.  Especially if someone is witnessing your pain and willing to let laughter bubble up in the middle of tears.  I took a strong cup of coffee and a handkerchief with me . No button, but the critical supplies.  It was a good visit.  FOr both of us I think.
Back home for more furious cleaning then I decided to swing by the farm where the granddarlings were doing an impromtu pumpkin carving blitz  before I headed north for my Sunday Evening visit with my mom.  45 minutes into the trip I realized that still, no button no cel phone.
After a visit with Mom, a great piece of Stuffed Crust Pizza thanks to my nephew Philip,  my day was finally drawing to a close.  I sat at the computer table and noticed the button jar.  For fun, I reached in and pulled one out.  it is a Cherokee shirt button.  Gray Green  Sturdy.  Well, button, this is the story of your day.  Night now.

Buttons in the Wash

Today's button must be in the washing machine - in the pocket still of the pants that I spilled a bucket of muddy water on about midday. It is a tan and gray button.  Stormy like the morning  but the morning  gave way to a beautiful fall afternoon.
I have a tenant coming  in two days and of course, so is Halloween.  That is a lot of pressure for one 24 hour Saturday.  I had to clean out the yellow room, which meant that everything that was in there had to go somewhere else.  Which meant that I had to move stuff. AND I am doing A YEAR TO CLEAR, sooooo, it really meant clearing not Fluff and Stuff.  I wanted to paint the room but that is simply unrealistic.  I am TERRIBLE at painting and everyone else is  B U S Y. better old paint than my brushstokes looking for all the world to see like a fingerpainting on the wall. I also am hosting the younguns for the spooky trick or treating and need to shop and chop.
In the middle of the day I grabbed 40 pounds of beans from the freezer to run up to the church supper only to discover that they were freezer burned. I tried soaking them - no go.  So I carried them to the compost pile and in the process took a bath. You can see why the button in my pocket was forgotten. Good fortune was on my side and I had dry britches to put on as I carried on with my errands and the day.
Now, the yellow room is empty.  Not clean yet, but empty.  Everything has found a home or at least a resting place until it undergoes the "Keep, Go, or Give"  test of  A YEAR TO CLEAR. The button will stay in the keep pile. I hope it is enjoying a good wash.  I will put it in the "done" jar tomorrow. If I can find it.

A Simple Gold Button

I chose from the button jar quickly without much thought to it and pulled out a silly little gold button.  It would have been on a paisley dress or a nautical shirt I think It is small and bright and I slid it into my corduroys.  I headed down for a day with a to do list longer than my arm but it was starting with joy personified.  I was meeting a friend that I rarely see and would get to have a warm hug from her, a meal together and, I knew, laughter over coffee. What is better than a friend, bacon and a button?
We shared some old history catch up, some NOW conversation, and some "what is next?" envisioning.
As always, my golden "next" seems to clarify in her presence and I thought about that as we parted and I realized I had not shown her my today's button.
My life is in a kaleidoscope of changing patterns as my seasonal job comes to an end just as the balance in my checkbook drops to a new low. The fax machine  has become my constant companion as I send form after form to potential new employers. I think how much I wish that gold button was a pound of gold not a trinket.
I wanted to help a friend today and offered to pick up a roll of burgundy table cloth  for a church dinner.  I did not take into account that it is the weekend before Halloween and every store would be filled with ghosts and goblins and W I T C H E S!!!! in line and in the parking lots!!! YIKES.  Three "wasted" hours later though, success and back across the river button and I traveled.
By days end I had shopped, chopped, faxed, printed, swept, baked, snipped, mopped and laundered and taken a drug screening test!.On my way toward home I noticed  that another friend was still at a task with a morning deadline and stopped in.  She was cold and tired.  I decided the golden thread of friendship was greater than the tug to sleep and went home to make hot chocolate and deliver it with whipped cream and home made bread and butter sandwiches.
Friendship is golden -warm hugs, gathering over coffee and bacon, lending a helping hand, delivering treats at midnight.
I guess this button isn't so silly after all.

The Abandoned Button Jar

The abandoned button jar. 
Hah, 137 days. 137 buttons in one jar ready to be chosen day by day. Natalie Bird, the diamond in my gramma bevy crown and Lauren Evangeline the princess in my queens crown have surely treasured the choosing. But, life happens. Three weddings and two funerals in three weeks, fall - falling with a yard overrun from a summer of neglect and snow in the forecast. A house that has to go on the market so repair lists being made if not started yet and so the buttons fell tooo, to the bottom of the to do list.
But, alas, they call each day and are carried if not storied.
An ivory button on one wedding day and a bright green one on the other. A gray drab button on a burial day and a bright pink one on another. Two matching buttons chosen randomly by the girls on a day I had forgotten the day before - to many hoorays.
My favorite button days are always the greenhouse days when I settle into a rhythm in sync with the natural world not the rat race that can sweep me up sometimes. Those buttons get fingered and hold my attention.
Oddly on my ministry days I am so busy ministering I have not time to ponder buttons with my hands flying and my mouth cueing volunteers to shop, chop, peel, pare and prepare soup and bread and corn muffins and simple suppers. Those buttons get pulled out of pants pockets in front of the washing machine and carried to a jar with a count that is always off by one or two or.......
But I miss the button stories. I miss summing up, giving thanks, sharing joys and insights and treasures of the day. So, tonight I counted out the buttons and moved the jar from the bedroom to the office next to this computer where I start my day and end my day checking on pics of the kids making their way home after three plus years in Italy, the biggest grand darling who will be 18 soon and his doings the missives that tell me if I have forgotten something or must tend to it in a timely fashion and the endless emails from the people who are trying to help me get a job that will mean more changes. There is no making time or finding time there is only spending time and so I will spend time each day again writing button stories. It is a nice feeling to come back to it. See you tomorrow night.

One Blue Button, 13 Green Frogs and 2 Yellow Lilies

Miss Lauren ( who informed me today that her title should be Princess Queen, leaving me without a job I think ) got to button pick today. On the ride to school we discussed her find. " Blue like the sky, like the water, like nothing you eat, light not dark, smooth not bumpy, the exact color of her back pack! " This button has swirls and two holes and was going to Kindergarten with Lauren who had no pockets but does have two hands - one for the button the other for everything else. Her job today was the little circle of joy which now she decided had two eyes and a mouth and a nose - mine was to find 13 frogs in the lily pond at the greenhouse.
I walked her in with the bigger than life back pack on and the blue button in her hand and then I headed to work.
It was a chilly morning heralding autumn and I pulled my sweatshirt close as I scoped out the surface of the water for eyes. 10 pair, not 13,. and two lily buds closed tight as Lauren's fist I noted.
I set up where the sun should be, sipping coffee, finding my place in my book on CD and began weeding. The sky remained overcast and the air cool. The pup romped on the hill before settling down with a bone.
Every little while as the day warmed, I circled the pond which has a flat stone perimeter about knee height checking for frogs. 10. 8. 6. 9. Most would sit quietly as I approached, some would dive under right away. One bold amphibian sat arching upward toward the bees on tall flowers above while the pup, less than a yard away, drank greedily from the refreshing water. The dog lapped, the bees buzzed, the frogs croaked and the lilies began to open-a pure, pale yellow peeking through the vibrant green buds.
It was just before lunch that I hit the jackpot! 8 pair of eyes in the water well camouflaged among the lily pads but findable and 5 on the ledge. BINGO I thought and smiled as I checked on the water plants expectantly. And sure enough, the lilies had opened completely. Such a magnificent site. Such a perfectly peaceful yellow perched in the water filled with leathery leaves and all those wide open eyes.
I hoped Lauren was having as much fun with the blue button at school as I was having at "work"today.

Buttons and Service

On Wednesdays I feed the hungry. Of course I don't do it alone, I do it with some amazingly talented and committed people who love to cook and to serve others, but it was my idea and so I take great pride in it. Our motto is " no one should eat alone on Wednesdays" We serve a free lunch and dinner in the church hall to all who show up. Lunch is homemade soup and bread or rolls or adorable little tasty corn muffinsl Supper is Simple - a one dish meal - it is actually called Simple Supper. And, of course, we don't feed the only the physically hungry, we feed the hungry of spirit, the hungry or heart as well - and it is so much fun.
This week while I chopped and peeled, diced and sliced I had a black button in my pocket. The thing about the black button is that it has a tiny, almost imperceptible, blue ring in the middle of it. Feathery. Easy to miss, though the blue is really quite vibrant once you notice. Community Lunch and Simple Supper is like that . It is solid with razzle dazzle hiding right dead center.
Our first customers on our very first day, were a bevy of men who live in a group home setting. We were so happy to see them and they were so happy to be there. A match made in heaven. Their favorite soup is Campbell's Tomato - the only one not home made though we do doctor it up a bit, but they are amazingly adventuresome with our concoctions. We have children as young as four helping and an 82 year old woman ladleing up the yummy broth. We have community service workers joining in and professional cooks dropping off batches of soup l Local farmers happily donate produce. We are blessed beyond measure.
The blue ring of vibrant color - how does that show up Wednesday after Wednesday? That is the blue flame of committment on the part of the people who shop and prep and cook and it is also in the eyes of the friendly folk who say :"thank you" as they push back their chairs, bellies full share a hand shake or a hug. If you are in our neighborhood any Wednesday, please, join us.

Drab, Brown Work Button

For the first time I grabbed a button and though - "oh, no, not this button, this is not the right button for this day. This is a drab button, a work button, a serviceable button on a day filled with light." I laid the dark, dull brown leather button on the dresser and actually reached in a chose another - a shiny coppery colored one that also did not feel right, but, was better. I went to put the first one back and instead put them both in my pocket. 
The sermon was - interesting - serviceable - a lesson on not taking the easy way out, on walking the long way hand in hand with God who knows the way. Boring and necessary.
I had to run errands on a stop watch timetable to accomplish all tasks on the list before picking Mom up and heading to the youngest granddarlings birthday party. I had to be efficient, frugal, punctual - all things I loathe hahahahahah - but I pulled it off.
Grateful for the success, Mom and I headed to celebrate Bradley George, the youngest grand darling, who turned one this week.
Four generations gathered together to eat and sing, to blow out one single candle and watch a baby smush cake for the camera.
I thought about the dull brown button that had now been dumped in the change bucket in the car with the coins. I thought about the symbolism of sturdiness that holds a family together through weddings and baptisms and funerals. How fortunate we are to live near one another, to support one another, to laugh and cry together day after day, month after month and year after year.
Oh, drab, brown, work button - you were the right button after all.

I Have a Little Button

I have a little button that goes in and out with me ..... 
Of course the nursery rhyme is really about a shadow, but I have spent the last 30 or so days carrying about a button and writing what we now casually call Gramma's Button Stories. Who knew carrying about a button each day would have such an impact. 
Today I pulled out a clayish colored button. Small as buttons go. Sturdy. At first I thought it was bone and then clay - both materials used for buttons but really it is a plastic material that is newer than it looks. I thought of bone weary as I set up to mulch, and mulch and weed and weed. I thought of "clay feet" meaning mere human not divine in this instance. Or perhaps simply muddy as I wiped my wet dirty hands on my britches for the hundreth time. I simply love working in dirt.
Neither phrase was really suitable for the day I had. It was glorious. Clear, blue skies. Perfect temperature. My pup, August, was by my side. I was making progress on the tasks at hand. I had my coffee, my fresh fruits and veggies and my book on CD.
I may be bone weary at the end of my days and I may indeed be a mere human but boy, oh boy, I have a good life. And I have a button in my pocket helping me to appreciate it. I encourage you to start carrying one.

A Memory Button

It was Miss Lauren's turn to reach in the button jar. Today Lauren says she is the Princess in my Gramma Bevy crown and she chose a yellowed ivory button with a small square shank. It is the color of old, faded piano keys. Serviceable was my first thought. She delivered it with a big smile and I deposited it in my pocket. 
My mother and I had a chance last week to pour over the quilt skirt my grand mother Maude made for me when I was fully grown but still young. It was cut squares from dresses she wore, Mom wore or I wore. Faded like the button it was a treat to spread it out before us and talk about each pattern and memory.
The ivory button felt like that. A shiny patch of memories.
A few mornings a week I have bus duty. My Lizzie drops of Nattie B and Lauren and they get ready for school here and then load up and I drive them to the bus. On a good day I make pancakes for breakfast. They say my pancakes are the best. Today was not that day. Today was 15 minutes of cupcake wars, a quick brush of teeth and hair and in the car. It was the first chilly morning so we took turns holding my hot mug of Gramma Tea loaded with milk and sugar in our hands. I turned the heat on in the car. We snuggled. We told stories and talked about colors and school. Today was a good day to make memories that they will talk about when I am long gone and they see a button.

A Two Button Day

I was a day behind and so I plucked two buttons out of the button jar ready to grab and run. I chuckled - a small sweet pink button and it's little sister a smaller sweet purple one. Both plain and simple and I thought to my self that this would be a plain and simple Natalie and Lauren missive. Not to be. 
I was camp nurse again this weekend for an event. I love this camp and love "running" the camp infirmary. It feels like home. I don't really run it of course - all nursing is team work, but I was " the buck stops here" nurse this summer and was proud of my efforts - except for a few mistakes and that one day I cried and cried. Still, wowser, it was a wild run. BUT... there were some pretty strong signs that it wasn't a healthy place for a repeat performance. Hear the ambivalence??? The pink button, or the purple button? Hmmmm.
The 24 hour stint was mostly gonna be bandaids and paperwork - inventory for next year - or the next nurse and it turned out to be good bye. One of the bosses, a good man I think, confronted me about my intentions and took me unaware. I held my own without being confrontational but after the conversation knew, deep in my heart, that the packing up was more than boxes and bags. A few more booboos, a hand full of Advil, and one puker and the gig was over.
And then the gifts arrived. I rode around the magnificent grounds on a bright and breezy day with a young man I have come to love. Good fortune rounded up his crew as we crisscrossed the yard. All the golf carts came to a halt. We gazed at one another and I began to talk. They listened. "You are amazing young men and women" I told them. "Your light is bright and beautiful when you work together to bring joy to others. You are kind and smart and fun and funny. You are talented beyond measure and you watch out for one another like few others. Make good choices. Don't chose what you know over what is possible. Let your hearts guide you. Stick together. And thank you. Thank you for including me, for the respect, the appreciation, the rides out and about in the beauty that is camp. Be well. This is good bye." We hugged, big, generous bear hugs.  Our eyes were bright with emotion but our smiles were brighter.
The pink button and the purple button and I walked to the car with a light heart. Both are beautiful, the past and the future.

The Forgotten Button

THE FORGOTTEN BUTTON 
I forgot to put a button in my pocket this morning. Amazingly, the darlings who were dropped off for school bus duty, forgot too. I realized it pretty early in the day and actually felt a little lonely without it. As U was coming back into town, 
I got a call to rescue Benjamin who was developing a cold and turned around to grab him from day care and take him with me to the green house til Momma could pick him up. A change in plan A , but doable. 
Oh what fun we had! We toured the greenhouse - me used to seeing it through the "lense" of the button, now seeing it through Benjamin's 2 year old eyes. We circled the hot stones of the frog pond that holds the water plants and found 2 froggies sitting in the sun and 2 on lily pads. One of the water lilies was fully open and a magnificently soft yellow bit of beauty next to the green slimy frog suit. Oh, joy. Ben poked at the frogs so he could watch them jump back into the water. Together, we pulled my wagons full of work stuff to my days work station. Sometimes Ben pulled, sometimes he rode in the wagon and sometimes he pushed. We ran through the very edge of the sprinkler circle to enjoy the tiny drops of refreshing mist without really getting wet.
In an hour his mother picked him up and the pup and I had the yard to ourselves. I had to finish the day lilies and get to the vines.
I thought about buttons as I plucked holey bug eaten leaves from vines, as I enjoyed the hidden clumps of color when I pulled trays of plants away from the clusters. I thought about the windows for fun. How unexpected changes in THE PLAN for the day bring joy.
It was a beastly hot day so I continued to play in the water. I sprayed the hose to make rainbows and to watch the patterns of water droplets on the shade house fabric, the thick, bushy hostas, the fine, feathery ferns, all the while listening to the music water makes as it splashes about and lands. Ahh, bliss. Button or no button it was a great day - Thanks Benjamin for getting me started on the path to fun in the greenhouse.

The Lost Button.

The lost button. I chuckled as I drew the button of the day out of the simple mason jar. Having slept in my clothes with the button of yesterday in my pocket, today seemed significant. My fingers dug deep and pulled out pink. A pink and fancy button. Swirled. Small shank. Textured. Soooo sweet. I dropped it in my pocket.
I am rising with the dawn this week - a great discipline and much easier if you fall asleep at 8 pm. The sky was the same color as the button- rosy pink when I peeked out the window. I had a full day planned and was feeling pretty rosy myself. I got to my first destination an hour and a half after I planned. ughhhh. So much for Plan A.
My eleven oclock doctor appointment for my rosy red ear ache was switched to 4 oclock so I decided to stay out of the heat and go to the greenhouse after the heat of the day. I would embrace AC.
I ran into the hardware store to puzzle over paint chips for a bit before the doctor appointment and almost missed it but did find a palette of colors I love for my house.
I rushed to the greenhouse next to water the wilting vines since work was now out of the question. Enjoying the flowers I reached into my pocket to appreciate my button.
Lost. Just like the day.

Blue, Blue, my button is a Perfect Blue

The button of the day is blue. An interesting blue. Not sky blue really, and not turquoise, and not aqua, but blue, none the less. I carry it around all day, thinking about it and all the blues that it is not even though it is lovely and I like the blue that it is.
It is interesting to think of things ( or ourselves) as what they (or we) are not. Why do we do that, I wonder?Not navy, not aqua, not pretty, not thin, not a piano player, not sweet tempered. And yet, I can see that this button is perfect exactly as it is. I am sure it was the perfect match for some blouse or shirtwaist dress or skirt made by my mother or grandmother. It might have been the perfect decoration on a hand sewn, hand stuffed animal. Not a giraffe, not a bear, not a horse, I think first but then think it would be absolutely perfect on a unicorn. It would be great fun on a pillow, too. It may actually, have been perfect for many things over the years and then found rest in the jar on the dresser waiting to be perfect in another chapter.
And what about me? I am not pretty, not thin, not a piano player, not sweet tempered - is that what defines me? or is it the things that I AM, that make me perfect, not for a everything, or even for everyone, but for ME, for my life, for this chapter certainly. I am perfectly beautiful with my wrinkles and my soft flabby arms to my granddarlings who tell me so often. I am perfectly shaped for the work I do, I am physically strong with lots of energy. I am perfectly talented to be creative in my own way and share my gifts with others without ever having to play the piano. I am honest and practical and straight forward and helpful. And kind. Maybe I am not sweet tempered but I think that I am still perfect just like my blue button.

Bob, bob, bobbin along.

I arrived at the greenhouse a bit early today to get my "honey do list" from the boss before he goes off to the land of hotter sunshine to enjoy sand for a change. 
Mulch the day lilies and the vines, weed the perennials that can winter over and dump (or " unplant" as I prefer to call it since we compost all the vegetation and save every bit of plastic that we can to reuse rather than waste) the annuals. Water what the sprinklers don't reach, greet the customers that can't read the signs that say we are closed and enjoy myself. 

I pulled a bobbin out of my pocket ( the "button" for the day ) and shared my minds meanderings for today's chapter,. I am thinking the bobbin represents the unseen work, I said. It is hidden underneath the thread plate where it diligently catches the thread from the visible spool. Without that second small sturdy, hidden spool of thread there would be no stitch made. Few realize the work that goes into making a dress, or today, to keeping a nursery going. Everyone comes to buy Mother's Day Baskets full and lush with color and vibrant life without giving much thought to the fact that they were once seeds. That they were planted - and probably uppotted - watered, weeded, lugged from bench to bench to hanger, perhaps to your car for you before they adorned your foyer or porch or deck.
Every endeavor has a bobbin. We see the finished products of life; the beautiful dress with fine stitches on the runway, the bouquet of flowers in the hands of the bride. the banquet on the table, the cabin or castle ready to move into, but none of them materialized from nothing. Without the bobbins doing the hidden work there would be no material, no dress, no flowers, no cake, no home.
I could go on and on about the work we do not see being done, the labors of love and responsibility but really, we all know this story. Sometimes we ARE the bobbins, sometimes we simply borrow the dress, or buy the cake but we know in our hearts the work that goes in to making life as we know it, easy, pretty, fun, simple. Still, once in a while it is useful to carry a bobbin in your pocket and ponder it all, and give thanks.

A Pink Button and a Birthday

The button jar is a H I T. The girls visited last night and asked to choose a button for today even though it was a day early. I let them. It was Natalies turn and the button she chose is small and smooth and pink. Pink is not my favorite color. It feels pale and wishy washy to me, all bubble gum and tutus. I decided to look it up The first definition was true to my feelings. Pink, a delicate color that means sweet, nice, playful, cute, romantic, charming, feminine, and tenderness, is associated with bubble gum, flowers, babies, little girls, cotton candy, and sweetness. It did go on to say that the color pink is the color of universal love of oneself and of others.
Hmmmm. I looked at the meaning on a deeper level and came up with this. Pink represents compassion, nurturing and love. ... Pink is intuitive and insightful, showing tenderness and kindness with its empathy and sensitivity.
Today is my Aunt Nancy's 86th birthday. I was fortunate to be able to worship with her in our church today. Aunt Nancy is the epitome of the perfect aunt. She lived next door with her boys so I was the apple of her eye. She is a nurse and is the reason I became a nurse. I love her completely.
After church, I bumped into Natalie in the grocery store and asked her if I could write about Aunt Nancy and the pink button today. Her response was sooooo 8. "yes, and about me too." she said.
Easy Peasy. Natalie is definition number one. Sweet, nice, playful, cute bubble gum, flowers, cotton candy. I hope she grows up to be just like Aunt Nancy - definition number two. Aunt Nancy is compassionate, nurturing, loving, intuitive and insightful. She has been a blessing in my life and I wish her a very happy 86th Birthday.

The Magnificent Maroon Button.

The magnificent maroon button. Not purple, not red, but maroon. The very color of the dinner plate sized blossoms on the hibiscus at the greenhouse. A rich, deep color it is warm and inviting. Soft. 
The weekend assignment includes time to do nothing at all. Just be. Not prayer time, or time to meditate. Not mental list making or problem solving. N O T H I N G. A very interesting assignment. At the greenhouse the bees and hummingbirds are so active that nothing seems impossible. The buzz alone is active. I perch in the shade house in front of my work bench holding the button. Quietly. Richly. Deeply. Doing nothing at all.
Buttons, even in a jar, suggest work. Sewing. Holding together. Buttoning and unbuttoning all those buttons. I remember Dapper Dan - the cloth doll with buttons and ties, zippers and snaps. Learning to button is a milestone!
I look out at the hibiscus just being on the tall stalk. The magnificent maroon hibiscus has much to teach me I think. Just like the buttons.

Lauren Evangeline and the Magical Purple Button

Ahh, jealousy.  Miss Lauren, the self appointed smelly fart gem in my Gramma Bevy Crown, was green with envy that I had written a button story  about Natalie Bird.  And so , she closed her eyes,(believe that one hahahahah), and dug deep in the now famous button jar and out came a purple button. !!!!!!So exciting. And she is waiting for these words.
Lauren and Nattie came for a picnic lunch with me today at the greenhouse.  We had a purplish smoothy that gramma made and Lauren didn't really like and some orange cheezeits. I handed Lauren the purple button and Natalie a purple stone and asked them to see where it took them.  They each leaned into the array of purple dotting the landscape of the the nursery yard  and compared the degree of purpleishness exclaiming "look, look " as they went.  That lasted for about five minutes. Then they got bored and pulled each other around in wagons. They were very interested in the dog poop August had deposited next to the car.  They were afraid the snake I saw yesterday was waiting for them when I sent them for the wheelbarrow. They did appreciate the  6 monarch butterflies all in one area even though they were orange. There were no AHHA moments, no revelations, no squeals of joy.  Except for Gramma Bevy.  Gramma Bevy was filled with magical, purpleish joy.
Button and stone in hand they made my heart swell - even with the occasional whining complaint of boredom.  Yup they did.  I am so blessed to be able to love these two darlings and to have them love me back with all of their little hearts.  Some moments are magical and some are filled with disappointment. Sometimes they are angels and sometimes I am very happy to see their parents pull in the driveway.  Today, I was just happy to watch them be kids while I pulled weeds in a garden peppered with purple. It was magical indeed.

Magic in my Pocket

Today's button is white. It is the twin to the Peter Pan Blouse button. 
The pearly white matched the opaque sky that was threatening rain and hiding the blue sky that the weatherman has predicted.I gathered white button, galoshes, a slicker and the pups and loaded up the car. 
The bright green fields were slippery with the rain and the paths were sloppy with thick mud under my feet. I slogged alongside of the pups and there, standing at attention in the grass was one shiny white morning glory blossom.
At home I toweled the dogs off and packed up for the greenhouse. .
Mulching was my primary task today and 18 weigela bushes waited for me. On the few straggling pink buds remaining was a white collared hummingbird having breakfast. A tiny burst of white phlox hid among the withering weeds on the edge of my work space.
As I worked the cloud cover burned off and was replaced by a blue sky filled with the puffy white clouds that imitate all things fun and funny. White continued to visit me in unexpected places.
I peeled an orange for my lunch appreciating the white pulp protecting the fruit which gave way to a delicious treat thick with fragrance. A gauzy white butterfly danced on the edge of a plate sized maroon hibiscus flower.
Oh, what magic there is in carrying a simple white button in your pocket. And the day has just begun

A Sparkling Button Day

Sweet, darling Natalie Bird,  an 8 year old diamond in my Gramma Bevy crown, chose my button today.  I told her to close her eyes and pick but it was too late.  She had seen the rhinestones glimmering from the shiny curve of the black button and her fingers had made fast work of diving into the jar and claiming it as my button for the day. She said she wanted me to have a sparkling kind of day.  Wow.
I returned to the tranquil land of my job at the greenhouse today  after a particularly chaotic summer.  I parked outside the gates and let myself in.  The richness of deep,  ruby reds and topaz golds greeted my hungry heart and I spent the first few minutes simply walking through the tall weeds treasuring the sights that Natalie had wished for me.
After a heartwarming greeting and sensational bear hug from the boss I set up my work station of fresh dirt, mulch, trimming shears, and Iced Coffee under a brand new  bought just for me bright cobalt blue pop up canopy and set to work.  It was satisfying work with instant gratification pulling weeds and pruning as I listened to my book on CD. The hours passed serenely and I was startled  out of my reverie when the
4 o'clock sprinkler came on. I gazed up into the sunlight and, behold, a spray of water dappled with opal. sapphire, amethyst and aquamarine arcing toward the  emerald and jade green plants materialized before my eyes.
Oh, Nattie Bird, what a treat to see the sparkle in this day. We did this button proud.

A Back to School Button

A simple, white, "back to school blouse with a Peter Pan Collar" button is my button this August day one week before school starts . It is the last day of camp nursing for me this season which means buttoning down the infirmary, packing up bandaids and ace wraps, benadryl and the very controversial epi pens and storing them til the seasons have come full circle. It also means UNbuttoning my daily routine- again and charting a new course when 8 becomes 9 on the calendar. 
There is road costruction at every turn as I drive the 22 miles from home to Camp Pontiac but the 200 plus acres are quiet and serene with only 90 athletes on campus when I arrive. I notice the metaphoric contrast as I walk across the still green grass. Bright yellow bulldozers on blacktop highways, calm lake waters against an azure blue sky.
I finger the button knowing that soon I must don my back to school blouse and chart a new course for myself. Will I lean toward the clang and clatter of road making or the silence of the cloudless sky? I laugh out loud as I think about the fact that while my grandson is meeting with a guidance counselor, I am seeking direction in a jar of buttons.

Buttonholes.

I chose a shimmery  off white button today.  Thick and sturdy, it felt like a work day button but was the beautiful color of a second wedding dress.  The one you wear when you have already  left one relationship but are now smarter and stronger and know what you want in a marriage.  A good button for today.  Work first, then a stop to celebrate friends who are hosting their post tying the knot party.
I am the widow of a strong and sturdy, sometimes shimmery, second marriage.  Wedding celebrations are bitter sweet - our vows were " grow old along with me " but alas, that was not in the cards. I hold the button and think about the fact that buttons hold things together, but they also can be undone, like relationships.  Separation, divorce, death.  They are all undone relationships, but the button and the empty buttonhole remain.
 I am a strong and sturdy, sometimes shimmery, button.  Widowhood is an empty buttonhole. All wrong.

Button Number 11. Hope

Ribbons of tan span the quarter sized button.  A tiny river of movement frozen, cut with a button cookie cutter and pierced with four tiny holes.  Neutral. Waiting. My fingers hold it up to the light and access what insight it will bring to this end of summer day that is anything but neutral in it's heat and humidity.
I play with the button  inbetween playing with the babes and doing chores. There is so much to do  but I, too, feel neutral.   Waiting. Frozen in place. I feel  pierced by the end of a seasonal income, a bill on the kitchen table that is bigger than my bank balance for work needed to hold up the porch of my hundred year old home.  I feel like a river in my sing song ambivalence about whether to stay or sell. And so the day goes.  Evening comes and it is time to move the button from my pocket to the "done"jar.  Time to give thanks and let  the day go. And as I slip this thin, tan notion from my fingers into the jar at my bedside, I imagine the journey this button has been on through the years and the possibilities it, and I, still hold.
And so, at the end of this day I find that this button has given me something else to hang onto. I am filled with the gift of hope. Thank you tan button.

Inspiration Comes with the Button Journey. Join Me.

Each day I reach into a jar of buttons and draw one out to carry with me throughout the 137 days from August 16 to New Year's Eve. It is a writing exercise offered by Patti Digh, an exercise in discipline, in sharing with a community of 115 people  who have each chosen their own 137 objects to mark the days - and then share their discoveries
As you see, the process has spurred me to blog here at Quest House again.  It has also prompted me to offer a new and inspired Radmacher Focus PHrase Course.
Radmacher Focus Phrase TM is a prompted writing process  originated with the one and only Mary Anne Radmacher. She is an author, and artist who has only trained and authorized three other people to offer her trademarked process. I am blessed to be one of those people.
So, to give you a taste of the process, for the next 7 days I will write in the style of Radmacher Focus Phrase TM.  Three paragraphs each night  about my button - using a prompt that relates in some way.  Yup, three paragraphs.  Follow along and let me know what you think - then I will share more about the process and what I will be offering in the fall. Enjoy

A day at the Dutchess County Fair with a Button.

Today's button is small and dark and utilitarian. Homely. Funny, I don't remember picking it out of the jar of a thousand buttons to rank in my 137. I dig deep each morning in to the jar and pick a random button. I could feel that it was plain. I almost let it fall from my fingers back into the jar, but something stopped me.
I picked it out - it is smaller than a dime and dark blue, almost black - took a long hard look at it, appreciated it's homeliness and tucked it into my pocket to take to the county fair.
I grew up going to the fair each Labor Day weekend one county north of where I live now. My kids grew up going to the Dutchess County Fair and now my grandchildren were looking forward to this end of summer family ritual. One of them, Benjamin, turns three today making it an extra special day.
So, button in one pocket and a small wad of 20's in the other we headed out.
I fingered it from time to time and I noticed buttons all around me.
We watched a pirate show with rag tag clothing held together with wishes and prayers, some fish line and big buttons.
We went through the arts and crafts building where the quilts are displayed - a few adorned by buttons.
My youngest grandson, only 11 months old, sat in my arms fingering the simple button on my cotton shirt.
Buttons are utilitarian by nature. They hold together the fabric of our daily wardrobes- pirates and grandmas alike. Some are beautiful - like a day at the fair. I am glad today's homely, utilitarian button got to spend a beautiful day at the fair with me. Even if it was in my pocket.

Button on a String

Today's button is big, solid- a button to steal from the button box for games. Button, Button who's got the button - I really did play that game in my youth, but this button begs to be strung and pulled back and forth on a string  held by pulsing fingers until it sings out.
Every house had a button jar.  Stray buttons, buttons cut off of old shirts and shirt waists before they were cut up for quilt blocks to be used on the next dress or shirt. 
If we found a button we never threw it away we tucked it in our pocket to play with or to drop in the button jar when we got home. 
If Gramma was in a good mood, on a rainy day we  were allowed to dump the button jar out on the kitchen table and sort them.  The big ones, the white ones, the leather ones, the brightly colored ones.  She always knew if we snitched one and put it in our pocket or sat on it til she stepped to the stove to stir a pot that was always bubbling away. We were expected to  climb under the table and feel with our hands for any buttons dropped in the play. 
If you lost a checker you could pick a red or black button to replace it on the board but it couldn't go away in the box, it had to go back to the jar. 
It was often Gramma who taught us to play the button games, who helped us thread the big fat buttons like today's button with string.  
Heavy cotton string was plentiful in our household. It tied pot roasts, tomato plants, and brown paper wrapped packages. As kids we used it for Cat's Cradle, Button on a String, and once in a while to set a trap under our bedroom doors to see if our snoopy brothers or sisters were sneaking into our rooms. Our mothers often found buttons and strings in our pockets when they did the laundry, tucked away and forgotten once the rain stopped and the sun came out and we headed outdoors for bigger and better games.  

Button, Button, who's got the button?

Button, Button, who's got the button? Funny how such a small item can have so many memories attached to it. A button jar, generations old, tells so many takes. I love buttons and chose them for my 137 days. I dumped the buttons out on the table my father made two generations ago, and asked my grand darlings to chose 137. An hour later they each had piles and smiles but we were no closer to my task being complete. They were engrossed. 
My grandmother and mother were both seamstresses. My grandmother, Maude, ( seriously Maude Mugford a beautiful but severe woman of many talents but not gentleness or grace ) was a young widow ( as I became years later ) and supported herself by sewing. Wedding gowns to men's suits, she could make them all - perfectly.
My own mother spend each night of the first week of school every year making me a dress for the next day. One night she fell asleep hemming my skirt and woke with the needle almost to her closed eye. But my dress was done in time.
They tried to teach me but neither of them was patient with my clumsy attempts and after ripping out seams over and over I declared in my preteen voice that "since you are so good at it you do it " and gave up = much to their relief.
And still, I see the button jar and my heart swells with fond memories of dresses and skirts, doll clothes and coats. Gramma's, Mom's and mine. ( I was the only girl child in a house full of boys )
I bought a sewing machine last Christmas time in Italy for my military son and his family and spent time teaching my granddaughter how to sew. I was amazed at how much I actually know how to do. Not perfectly for certain, but "good enough" and good enough to make memories for the generation ahead. I'll take it - and pass the button jar on when the time comes.

137 Days of Buttons

137 days of Buttons.
This week I joined an amazing group of writers on a journey lead by Patti Digh.  Google her and learn more, but the gist is for the 137 days starting August 16th and ending on New Year's Eve we will write to writing prompts and share as a group three days a week.  The practice includes putting 137 objects in one container and transferring one to the other container each day with an evening ritual of gratitude.
I have decided that , since I am writing anyway, I will share much of that journey here as well.
I chose buttons from my grandmother's button jar as my 137 objects.
Please follow along - and join me if you are inclined.
Enjoy

The Wise Men are Coming, The Wise Men are Coming

Happy New Year.  An unchallenged, politically correct proclamation after weeks of   pussyfooting around Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. Refreshing, but.....
While I love embracing a new year as much as anyone, my heart belongs to Epiphany.  What makes the new year good for me is the knowledge that the wise men are on their way! For me, it is better than Santa Claus - though I have a fondness for Santa as well. 
Epiphany.  I even like the word.  It sounds as important as it is in the Christian calendar and in the implicit meaning to a Christian.  
Miriam Webster  reports the definition as "the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi" 
Epiphany is when Christ is revealed as the Christ Child to the Wise Men.  Revelation. Ahhh, that moment when you K N O W.   
I wear many hats. I am a writer, a nurse, a mother/grandmother/motherinlaw/daughter, but I am also a lay minister and so sometimes I have the privilege of preaching.  
Last week I preached on  not putting Christmas away until it is time.  Not the tree of course - it doesn't really matter when you take the tree down unless you need it to help you - but  in the Christmas story as of last week we were only up to the shepherds and their flocks in the fields.  The angel appeared and proclaimed not Merry Christmas or Happy New Year, but Fear Not.  I bring you good tidings of GREAT JOY!. 
We are the shepherds!   and so we get to hear the good news that the baby is finally born! 
And so I challenged the congregation to travel with the shepherds and see for themselves the baby in the manger and revel in it, not put it away for the year. 
And now - now the Magi are following the star.  How great is that.  What faith! What wonder!
So, while I am looking forward to a new year with everyone else, I am still holding my breath for the great revelation of the MEANING of Christmas.  That the baby has come with purpose and that as my saviour he brings purpose and meaning to my life as well. It is my mission in the year ahead to serve Him by serving others.  That is how I plan to put the happy in the new year ahead.
He calls us  to be useful and purposeful  where we are with the resources we  have available to us, He commands us to promote Peace on Earth, Good will toward Men - all men- not just the Jews but the Gentiles, and the Muslims, and the hungry and the poor and widows and children.  
Epiphany comes to remind us to Go Tell it on the Mountain, not with our words alone, but with our deeds. 
I love Epiphany.  My tree is still up to help me remember that Christmas  has only just begun. 
Merry Christmas to you all year long and Happy New Year - may it bring the epiphany of purpose in your life.